Poetry by Brian Harman

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Dust

My mother told me, almost forty years later, 
the song that played in the background of desertion--

I was four years old on a brown vinyl couch
as I watched my father walk out the door on us.
No memory of the song that played,
but I do have the memory of feeling responsible,
and over time, I held on to that transference 
of pain, a buried hurt always tender.

My mother, I can see her abandoned wound 
still there along with other emotional burdens 
collected in age, she is in my mirrored reflection,
my father is in my mirrored reflection,
he left the song in my mother’s heart
that became the sung cremation; 

his dust in the wind my mother and I poured 
into the ocean, as we cried for our own reasons,
husband/wife failure, father/son unfulfillment, 
yet somehow over time it’s accepted,
somewhat understood beyond forgiveness,
the window opening with recollections 
of a closing door, for all we can do 
is remember the re-creation of love 
and sorrow, until all we are 
is scattered remains.

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BRIAN HARMAN is a poet living in Southern California. He received his MFA in creative writing from Cal State University, Long Beach. His work has been published in Chiron Review, Nerve Cowboy, Misfit Magazine, and elsewhere. He is the author of Suddenly, All Hell Broke Loose!!! through Picture Show Press.

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