Potholders

Thursday, August 15, 2024

A Gathering of Poetry: August 2024

It's the third Thursday of the month so I'd like to welcome you to A Gathering of Poetry. I came upon this poem when I was reading some poetry earlier this month and was struck by how applicable it was. John's older brother, Jim, died from malignant melanoma in 1986 when he was 29 years old. I'm telling you this not to express sadness (even though it was tragically sad and drastically altered their family forever) but to say how often I've wished that my own sons could have known Jim. He was an independent thinker, very creative, able to make almost any part he needed when fixing an old truck or his motorcycle, artistic, and a kind soul. I used to think of Jim when Ryan would make complicated pencil drawings, and I see Jim reflected in Justin's deep interest in wildlife. Jim used to come in from mowing and get a drink from the kitchen faucet, and both of my boys do the same thing. I welcome poetry that makes me think about what we all have in common and what connects us, and this poem does. 

A Drink of Water
by Jeffrey Harrison

When my nineteen-year-old son turns on the kitchen tap
and leans down over the sink and tilts his head sideways
to drink directly from the stream of cool water,
I think of my older brother, now almost ten years gone,
who used to do the same thing at that age;
 
And when he lifts his head back up and, satisfied,
wipes the water dripping from his cheek
with his shirtsleeve, it's the same casual gesture
my brother used to make; and I don't tell him
to use a glass, the way our father told my brother,
 
because I like remembering my brother
when he was young, decades before anything
went wrong, and I like the way my son
becomes a little more my brother for a moment
through this small habit born of a simple need,
 
which, natural and unprompted, ties them together
across the bounds of death, and across time . . .
as if the clear stream flowed between two worlds
and entered this one through the kitchen faucet,
my son and brother drinking the same water.

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Harrison, Jeffrey. "A Drink of Water". Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness & Connection, ed., James Crews, Green Writers Press, 2019. 

You can read more about the poet here

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12 comments:

  1. Oh, my. Feeling all the feels with this one, Bonny. Powerful imagery. (Poetry is really quite remarkable.)

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  2. Wow. It's pretty amazing that you found this poem that so perfectly matches your own experience with your family. And isn't it also amazing how you can see glimmers of your brother-in-law in your sons?

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  3. Definitely the Feels with this one Bonny. A beautiful poem and beautiful memories.

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  4. Poetry is a wonder... yes, this is a poem full of all the feels. Thank you so much for sharing another new to me poet!

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  5. Well, Bonny, this made me cry, but in a good way. My step-son is so like his father, and although I don't seem him very often, it stuns me when I do. He shares his mannerisms as well as his looks. This poem is very magical, capturing so much for so many. I'm so glad you see your late BIL in your sons. It can be viewed as biological, but it is so much more.

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  6. We just had a family text thread where we shared how many of the grands inherited my odd "flamingo" standing position. My sisters all made fun of me growing up but now some of their grands stand the same way. Crazy.

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    1. I'm glad your legacy of standing like a flamingo has been adopted by so many of the grands. You are a family!

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  7. That's such a poignant poem, made all the more so by your family's story, Bonny. I've lost 2 brothers, one when I was 17 and one when I was 31. I wish I had someone around who reminded me of them with their mannerisms and habits.

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  8. love this, I see past people in my kids whom they haven't met. What a wonderful poem!

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  9. I love your story about how your sons have some of the characteristics of an uncle they never were able to know in person. What a lovely poem.

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  10. Poems are magic, aren't they. Thank you for sharing this one along with the story that connects you and your boys to your John's brother. (I've marked the September 19 on my calendar - I will remember to participate next month!)

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