For a long time, I had been wanting to create a series of portraits of my husband, who is living with Parkinson’s disease. Portraits where I honor Hal as a person – his strength and his vulnerability. And portraits where I express how it feels for me to be both a witness and a care partner in this.
what am I
to myself:
two feet on
some land
when upright
A new film elegy by Bryan Konefsky that uses the lens of loss and grief to explore intersections between memory and artifact.
Now I shall praise our dog Josie
the bodhisattva of our household
the perfect embodiment
of devotion, always present
in spontaneous awe
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
Having gone public with your bisexuality the month prior — and blocking your parents and sister at the same time — the memories would have to suffice
I heard an announcement:
“If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please
come to the gate immediately.”
Nearly fifty years ago,
in the wreckage of my first marriage, I lit
a tall white taper, prayed that my husband
would return to himself, keep our family intact,
a prayer that disappeared in the dark vaults
In Dante, some stanzas so blaze with light,
reading them, you feel your pupils constrict.
It’s like walking along the shore, ocean
flashing on your left, sun straight ahead
flooding your eyes
He made smoke
Circles in the air
He put the ashes
Into the ashtray
Without speaking to me
Without looking at me
The day you passed away, I stumbled
along icy sidewalks, searching for any
sign of you
I studied bees, who were able
to convey messages through dancing
and could find their ways
home to their hives
As her parents see it, caring for Claire is part of the job of being parents and something they do gladly…
The love my partner and I share is a book we’ve read many times.