Beaver Pond Poetry, Music, Ghosts and Trees - Poem: Saying Goodbye to Grace

 

I love the informal format of Liz Bowman's Beaver Pond Poetry Forum. 

Left my house in Willow Grove in plenty of time to get there, cruise thru the bumper-to-bumper traffic in New Hope, and get lost along the last half-mile of finding the church.

I got direx from my sister Lynn who used to live in New Hope but eloped with the love of her life and is now living in Florida.

Her direx were great...but it was two older gentlemen who were putting water toys in the trash who told me, to go thru the sign for 202 and then I'll see it on the left.

When I walked in, at exactly start-time of 2:30, Liz was sitting alone in the church.

I used the baffroom and noticed a 'trap door' which she told me led to the basement, hidden by a Persian rug.

"I thought it was for Jews to hide from the Nazis," I joked.

Finally two other people joined us, Tracy, Liz's sister/law and the man I was waiting for - Sandy Bender, banjo player. 

The four of us talked a lot. Liz has always had ghosts wherever she's lived. Once as a lil girl growing up along the Hudson River very scary ghost visited her and she cried for hours afterward.


They were forced to get an exorcist who got rid of all their ghosts, including the good ones.


Liz read exquisite lines for her journals, dating back to 2001 and 2002. Ah, the importance of journaling!


Sandy told an incredible story of a hiking trip he took. He was late so the group left w/o him. He set out to catch up with them and met a man who was weeping on the side of the road.


I can't go on alone, the man said to Sandy. Will you walk with me?


They walked together and the man told the awful story of his 15-yo son - Lennon Baldwin - who had killed himself b/c of being bullied. 

Imagine the synchronicity that brot Sandy together with John Baldwin - and all the other synchronicity in our lives!

SAYING GOODBYE TO GRACE CATHERINE

a silent ache

when she leaves

alone in her carseat

Mom-mom drives

she watches me blow kisses

through the back window

strapped in

a prisoner to her elders

both grandmothers will leave first

snatched without mercy

useless to cling to our lost darlings who

will forget us like

last night’s dreams

what’s to remember about Bubby?

because I say, Grace this is a daisy,

how do you like my new birdbath?

it is I who want to tag along

after death

want to be with her

listen to her laugh

meet her friends

guard her when she swims

teach her to ride no-handed on a bike

put her on the plane

when she travels to Rome

I will be there to see all things

at least today I believe it

tomorrow may be different

as my parachute falls silently

to the poppy fields

and nothing is left but a

an indentation in the soil.       

 Brick labyrinth at St. Philip's Chapel, put in six years ago.

Magnificent garden with centerpiece of weeping cherry tree.

Tracy, Liz's sister/law, who said she might try her hand at poetry. It's contagious, I said.

Don't you just love doors? You never know what you'll find inside.

Driving home through New Hope. I love the lil shops and the way of the people. Many of em are hippies like the people at Beaver Pond.

Here's where I make my crucial Right turn to avoid New Hope traffic.Was not quite sure how to get home this way but it was correct - Lynette Heap's big ole stone house, Peddler's Village, the Sox Lady, and up through Hatboro.


I filled up with Giant gas for $3.29 a pound. The cheapest around.

West Bridge Street. Last store on the right used to be our family-feud store: The Now and Then Shop. Ah, how sweet those words look. My dad started it before he went away to NeverneverLand at age 59.