Found this Miller Williams poem in a stack of personal papers
here at the office. Seems I posted it on Melic as a response
to a response to a poem called Visiting Hours
that I had posted there.
Printed it out on 8/26/2002. Seems a bit
prophetic, maybe? Interesting for sure in light of my loss.
The Vanishing Point
Often I squinted my courage to see the spot
where all lines converge, but only saw
my father before it, spreading like a tree.
He is diminished now into that unplace
where there is nothing, neither breath nor breadth,
and I have felt a generation move.
I am standing, it seems all of a sudden,
with no one now between that point and me,
sliding toward it slowly as I can.
I grieve to celebrate. And may my children,
back down the widening years, see before them
some such old and serviceable simile.
Miller Williams
2 comments:
Ah, gee. This poem makes me ache, Maggie.
I'll be carrying around that word "unplace" with me for the rest of my life.
"He has diminished now into that unplace"
Yes, it stays with me. I remember when I first read the poem and how even then, before I knew this loss, that line stayed with me. I really enjoy Miller Willams' work. You know he's Lucinda's father, yes? They had a show together in Chicago a year or two ago and I so wanted to go, but it just didn't work out. I hope they plan to read/sing together again. I left you another response below. Glad you stopped by, and I hope you'll stop by again!
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