I wrote this poem as part of my final project in my poetry class at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. I turned it in on July 12, 1990. I had turned twenty-years-old seven days before. Today would have been Gram’s 96th birthday.
Category: Gram
Perfer et obdura, dolor hic tibi proderit olim
I spoke to you on Thursday
by Saturday, you were gone
In my jealousy
I wanted you to stay
to speak to you again
to tell you I loved you once more
The morning light had come
your time was done
1:11, 11:11, it doesn’t matter the hour
there was so much more to say
No more history lessons
no more dirty jokes
no more simple days
to sit with each other
and just
be
I can still feel your soft skin
your gentle voice
in the echoes of my mind
your laugh
your smile
how you said my name
It’s been five long years
without your advice
your wisdom
your wit
I miss my cognate
my mentor
my friend
The loss
cannot be replaced
what was once extant
is now gone
If I could ask
you’d say
Be patient and tough;
someday this pain will be useful to you