After Packing my Suitcase for the Funeral
Then I turn to a portrait
of you at the piano (Were you 12 or 13?),
your smile the same one I saw
in the last days
when moving
was hard. Your long fingers
like a metronome holding rhythm
on the bedding. At the funeral,
we will cry. We will let you go,
ashes to ashes and all.
Sing you into heaven
and praise the glow
of the summer sky.
Margaret Simon, draft
Today I will be traveling to Mississippi where our family will gather and celebrate the life of my mother. I can’t seem to write a poem this summer that does not have her in it. Forgive me, but it seems necessary at this time.
Tabatha Yeatts of The Opposite of Indifference coordinates a poetry exchange. She sent me a poem she wrote based on a podcast she heard and thought of me. I love this Poetry Friday community and how we share poems as well as life events. Thanks, Tabatha for sharing your creativity with me.
Butterfly children
by Tabatha Yeatts
Jo Nagai, boy-scientist,
believed in love-memory,
thought his caterpillars greeted him
after becoming aeronauts, hovering
close as though he was
a dark-eyed flower.
Their memory not wing-scale thin,
but thick as honey.
He loved the before,
the tickle of their round bodies
held on his arm as he conducted his tests
so he shared their small pulse of discomfort.
He loved the after,
the wobbly wings,
the legs slim as a kite’s string.
Jo noted everything,
page after page,
as the butterflies responded
the same as their caterpillar child-selves.
No matter how great the metamorphosis
of being swaddled in the chrysalis
and rebuilt in the soup of creation,
even into the next generation,
young butterflies swooped into
the future’s flowers with messages
from their ancestors:
before you break open,
here’s what I know.
Inspired by Radiolab’s episode “Signal Hill: Caterpillar Roadshow” about a Japanese second-grader who scientifically studied what butterflies can remember.
Reflections on the Teche 
[…] I wrote a few poems inspired by podcasts for the Summer Poem Swap. Linda and Margaret are sharing theirs today! 8 million people, 7 million pigeons and Butterfly children. […]
Your poem is beautiful, Margaret, and you can write about your mother as often as you want or need to. My ongoing condolences to you. Tabatha’s poem is gorgeous too. What a gift. ❤️
Dear Margaret, it’s right and lovely that your mother is in all your poems lately. Thank you for these offerings. xo
Your poem and Tabatha’s echo and harmonize in such beautiful ways.
Sending love as you release your mother the way you have so many butterflies, while still holding tight to so many precious memories.
Letting go…in life and in nature. Thanks for sharing your heart, Margaret.
Thinking of you as you travel to honor your mother and her life. Write away – this is how we remember and release! A time of sharing with family – take care of yourself these days!
Margaret, may the glow of the summer sky shines on you as you travel to the funeral of your dear Mother. My prayers lift upward for your Mother’s and Father’s reunion and your family’s grief period. After my own Mother passed, I was able to see her in my dreams. Now she comes several times. I think she is near because she wants my family to be at peace. I wish the same for you. Your poem moved me, especially this line, “Sing you into heaven”. Be at peace as you let go. It is not easy but it is the journey you must take for now.
Margaret, peace to you. I understand the intention of writing whatever it is that is necessary. Your poem is so lovely, from the title to the immediate glance at the portrait and then lost in your thoughts and memories about her musical fingers and more. And those last three lines sing out with hope and beauty and the mystery and beauty of life and death.
It’s a tribute to your mom’s loving role in your life that she pops into every poem you write. Thanks for sharing them with us–I hope you continue to do so. And as I read Tabatha’s poem, these lines brought me back to the day after my mother’s funeral:“No matter how great the metamorphosis of being swaddled in the chrysalis”My siblings and I were watching ancient, moldy 8 mm films that we had found in a cabinet. There we were as kids at the beach, and there I was, the youngest–probably aged 4, wrapped in a towel in my mom’s arms. I remember the overwhelming feeling of love and loss that image brought. Now, with the passage of 13 years, the memory brings only love and thankfulness that I had been swaddled in the chrysalis and that my mother was proud of my metamorphosis. Wishing you peace and warm memories in the days ahead.
Buffy, thanks for sharing that story. Loss is a universal theme. I appreciate so much the support of this community.
“Sing you into heaven.” I love this line. Thinking of you as you gather with family to honor your sweet mother.
Margaret, I hope it is a joyous event, even among the ashes. “Your long fingerslike a metronome holding rhythmon the bedding. “So specific, so universal an image of what remains. Tabatha’s poem is a wonder, too.
Margaret, I hope you enjoy being with family as you celebrate your mom’s life. Take comfort in being with those you love and those who loved her. I am so jealous of the beautiful poem that Tabatha wrote – just Wow! I, too, have come to love our Poetry Friday community as we lean on each other in times of joy and sadness. It is a unique set of kind and talented people who share with their hearts as well as their minds. Take care.
How lovely, Margaret, that you have whispered into the flowers what you know of your mother. Blessings to you this weekend.
Margaret, both of these poems are so full of heart. It seems natural to me that your mother is in all your poetry this summer and that writing is a part of your journey as grief walks along beside you. Sending hugs. You’ve been in my thoughts all weekend.
“Sing you into heaven and praise the glow” is beautiful, Margaret. I love the specificity of the detail of the smile in the photo being the same one you saw in the last days, a loop of beginnings and passings, something true beyond knowing, like poetry, like love. xo
Dear Margaret, You Mother is aware of your beautiful writing about her & how your hearts entwine. I’ve missed a lot of your posts this summer, so I apologize for not offering sympathy earlier. With embraces, hoping for many many more poems of your Mother.
Dear Margaret, A mother so loving deserves to keep appearing in your writing, including your poems. Please keep sharing your poems.