I have gathered the roses, I have tucked the brown bottle in my purse, I have pocketed my mournful verse. Maybe you think love is snapshots glued on acid-free paper, bound in embellished vacation-themed scrapbooks I have put on my life vest, and climbed into the camp boat, facing the wilderness, and motored out into the sunset. I have crossed the still-water and leaned over the frame. I have emptied Into the Great Pond
© Deborah Garcia 2022, All rights reserved
About this poem
Our family has been vacationing the same week in August in the Belgrades, ME, since 1999. “This is the best place on Earth,” my boys always said. One year ago this week, my surviving son and I released some of my son’s ashes in the cove at his favorite fishing spot.
Beautiful poem for a sacred moment. Thank you for sharing.
I hope being here can fill some of the emptiness with good memories.
BSC is part of our being. A room in our home. A bookmark in our story. Presently, the sandy cove on the northern heel of Great Pond is a holding space for me. Maybe new memories will find us tending little fires under the stars.
Thank you for reading peg!
I like how you contrast the phony vacation-themed memories, embellished like a product to be consumed in a photo album, and memories that empties you into a deep pond, as you face wilderness, the deep pond being beyond all that, facing the true being, the true self.