“Five Months Later”


Five months later, and you’re still dead
As if it were still funny, still fresh, still new
Five months later, and the demons have spread
As if I let my guard down, as if it were still true

Five months later, and the well-wishing has stopped
Already, as if your death is passé
Five months later, and the world has gone on
But we’re trapped in the hold of that day

Five months – and the careless things people say
Only multiply: “you’re so lucky, to have a home,
A place to stay” – when home has died
And we saw it ripped from her body with our own eyes

09/29/16 – Emma Dumitra.


[Goodbye is in Spring Flowers]

Goodbye is in spring flowers
that say hello.
They nod, haphazard,
their faces aglow.

They sway with the current
of time and of wind,
of the movement in hallways;
their light not rescind.

Their faces and traces
not caught by the air.
Their fragrant motion
so quiet, so fair.

The slow transformation
from spring into summer
bids flowers goodbye,
yet their glow
we remember.

But they bloom
again and again,
and history
recites itself over time
even as we write it,
and often
despite it.

Written Spring 2012, Emma Dumitra.
Image from http://www.discoverdesign.ca.

“The Old Young Pear Tree”


Look yonder as some husky tree
with woven mossy beard and many jools
asunder by the empty brook
a nest of hollows in its roots prepares.

And there
with emeralds beclothed, and leaves,
the old young pear tree sighs
as empty water wind
and breathless breeze
hen-feathers ruffle, beckoning to skies.

Look yonder where the branches bow and sway
o’erhead the nest in folded disarray;
a treasured egg laid by its mother’s feet
come spring shall turn to leafy dome –
its children bud
and tow’rds the heavens roam.

Written April 2012, Emma Dumitra.
Image from www.treepicturesonline.com.