Poetry

My Uncle Larry was an artist of many sorts.  I have only been exposed to a fraction of his photography, but I have seen his use of found objects to create a living space that made him happy.  I appreciate that kind of sculpture and arrangement.  He is gone now.  He passed away almost four years ago.  I never took the opportunities I should have to know him better.  It seems the saying is true about youth.  While he may have rubbed some people wrong with his hippie ways and un-mainstream beliefs, I always found him to be one who was enjoyable and agreeable to know.

I saw my aunt yesterday.  She still grieves for him.  I know this.  I know the pain never leaves after you lose a loved one.  Some days are better, but they are never easy.  Seeing her reminded me of this.  And of his art.

I need to appreciate the loved ones I have now.

Forgive me for leaving my normal tempo and narrative form.  Today, I write for my Uncle.  And, in that vain, I submit this poem:

FITFUL

Awake

It seemed

All night long.

Sleep

Was an

Inconsiderate lover.

Still

I long

To go back.

  

Jim R. Huffman

4-7-2010