31 Jul: "Before She Died" by Karen Chase
When I look at the sky now, I look at it for you. As if with enough attention, I could take it in for you. With all the leaves gone almost from the trees, I did not walk briskly through the field. Late today with my dog Wool, I lay down in the upper field, he panting and aged, me looking at the blue. Leaning on him, I wondered how finite these lustered days seem to you, A stand of hemlock across the lake catches my eye. It will take a long time to know how it is for you. Like a dog's lifetime -- long -- multiplied by sevens.
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The second stanza is strong. "All the leaves gone almost," like she is mentally gone, but still physically here.
ReplyDeleteI can't quite tell who she is to the narrator, or how the dog plays into it all.
"It will take a long time to know how it is for you." Or, maybe, the narrator will never learn/know. How can he/she be so sure? Aging makes me think about the future. When aging may just be a disease that can be cured. How will that change death and finite days?