Page 64 - July 2021 Litterateur
P. 64

Meta Marie Griffin is a poet from South
                                                                                            Carolina,  United  States.  She  was
                                                                                            selected as an alternate for fellowship
                                                                                            from  The  Sc  Arts  Commission.  Her

                                                                                            poetry  has  been  accepted  in  An
                                                                                            Anthony of SC Poetry, The Dead Mule
                                                                                            School  of  Southern  Literature,  and
                                                                                            Freedomfiction.com.
                                                   Meta Marie Griffin,



                                   South Carolina, United States







                                    Reunion                                                  By the river














                                We sip wine                                             It means there is an escape
                                and listen to bird songs.                               from this small place.


                                I moved away months ago.                                There’s what
                                We continue our conversation                            beyond the dams
                                where we left off.                                      of yesterday
                                Loneliness can kill a soul                              some large heavy presence
                                more than any virus.                                    that might
                                                                                        be the one who had gone.

                                Deer gather in the yard.
                                The garden I planted                                    In the given hour
                                is still there.                                         the tree arrange themselves.
                                the elephant ears                                       into this huge mosaic
                                The azalea and dogwoods                                 that resists and beckons.
                                erupt in the yard.
                                The monkey grass,                                       and we are wanting to push beyond it
                                elephant ears, and gardenias                            as if it is some kind of veil.
                                fill the yard where                                     an old promise.
                                 I used to work for hours.                              a possible route
                                                                                        to yesterday
                                We sit on the porch.                                    that is impossible
                                There are no words                                      but permitted
                                to express                                              on a cool spring day. Hasn’t one

                                friendship, a place,                                    walked into something like happiness
                                and a moment                                            and for an astonished moment
                                that seems timeless.                                    stepped over to the other side
                                                                                        into the place where you think
                                The deer gather                                         this is what death might be
                                in the backyard                                         and it will be okay.
                                I cherish the silence
                                I have missed for months.
                   Litterateur                                                                                            64

                         REDEFINING WORLD
                       EDITED BY SHAJIL ANTHRU
   59   60   61   62   63   64   65   66   67   68   69