Always the Empty Chair. . . Times Such as These. . .

 It  is late.  And I am an old woman.  I sit here and cannot see the keys of the keyboard because  I weep.  I have delayed coming and writing this again which seems to be a signature poem of mine and it is not an honor I wish to claim. 

In differing times I took the hand of our David and walked him home.  I brought him into our world, so when asked, I knew what to do.   The empty holy days and holidays we have all struggled with; the empty chair that would not be filled in this our lifetime knows who belonged there. 

And since then and I have not chosen to remember, I see by the number of times in this  poem’s history, it is far too many times I have posted Times Such as These.  I cannot bear to think of families at the tables  with empty chairs.  Life fills itself with mundane tasks to wipe hours from days and days from years, but  life does not know what to do with the silence at the family table.

In the course of events,  there are many noble issues concerning weapons that take life.  And any effort to halt this carnage would bring halos to heads. But as a mother whose child grows beneath her heart to form a bond we have no language for, for the fathers and sons and siblings who will be forever linked in an eternity which houses them to this minute,  the meaning of love will be the one no longer here.

For the ones who still can do something noble, please do it because you also are in eternity and I tell you the pain does not let up.

Times Such As These . . .

I lock up the room
and pocket the last remnants
of words laying about

Fearful that pieces of my heart
may be found scattered among them.
And why not?

Times such as these leave us
with little salve to heal the open wounds
which once were hearts.

For whom do we weep?
The children whose siblings
will no longer come to the table
to convey with no doubt
the events which took their innocence?

Or the parents
whose hearts were transplanted
when word came
 that these unspent stars
were already breathing the rarified air
as heaven’s most blessed?

Look at us here.                        
Pleading that our children
will be safe as they try to understand
what we in our dotage
have not learned.
To resort to arms

means death in any country.



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7 responses to “Always the Empty Chair. . . Times Such as These. . .”

  1. What a beautiful and heart wrenching way to describe that indescribable bond between mother and child. Thank you for your words.

    • Meredith, thank you. When it does not happen between mother and child, there is a deep problem. We can hope then that there is remedial help for both mother and child.And should life’s circumstances not permit, there will be rescue for both instituted. Life understood as today, vigilant we must be. GG

  2. email from Suzanne Tate. . . Wish I could give you a hug, my friend, for I sense you need support. If ever the term “earth weary” applied it is now, in these times.
    Your Light still shines…even when you don’t know it.

    Sent from my iPhone

  3. Ahhh Suzanne. . .Heaven knew we were incubating a friendship and they were keen on separation of ‘to be’ friends. Thank you for your thoughts. It seems we are still groping to know the power of thought. We who know never make light of them. Veronica

  4. email from Trish. . .
    Bless you, Veronica. We all need to share our love with others, and you do your part so beautifully. May you feel the love I send to you, your family, and all others that you include in your thought as well. Our thoughts can heal the world.


  5. Trish. . .you also know the power of thought. I will have hands on many collars when I hear names I love being called. And there will be much frolic at the foot of the Mount. Till then, work continues and this classroom must be cherished. We will not let it be lost in ash again. And we do not make light promises. I cherish our cyber friendship. Veronica

  6. email from Mark Jacobson. . . Hi Ronnie: Just wanted to let you know how moving, and how true this last posting is. I recall the poem and remember the poignancy evoked by the imagery, and I continue to think about the message. Thank you Mark

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