Shutting out the light

Running rest-day ...

... and here's a Simon Armitage poem from his early (first) 1989 collection, as pictured.

One of the most powerful poems I know about death and loss:


GONE

Heaven, at last, to feel the thump
of the hearse door shutting out the light
and to settle between my brothers;
one at each side. We move off

gently, through the low gears as if
I was a serious patient; as if my blood
couldn’t stand the slightest jolt of speed.
I suppose the rain, damping, or the specks

of rain on the face of my watch
will be everlasting. Of this day.
And I wanted to do so well. To
hold on to every difficult breath

and keep that release for the pain
of everyday things: the children; clothes;
a space where she might have spoken;
anything. Because it comes. And suddenly.

Maybe tonight. Not the bed, empty, that’s
one thing. But her watch, still ticking
and the loop of one, blonde hair
caught in her hairbrush. That’s another.