To/For, About, With

    in loving memory of Tracey McCartney

We balk

at the task of writing

about the life of a beloved

because it seems impossible,

the audacity of eulogizing her

rendering us wordless at first

but we try anyway.

We listen to Neil Peart

for inspiration

to pen stories and poems,

write songs and blog posts,

issue proclamations

using words like fierce

and justice, steady and strong,

talent and uproariousness,

passion and compassion

and love.

We search inside ourselves

for the same qualities,

wondering about the unnamed thing

that draws one person

to another

whether across time

and miles and constant change

or tucked in together

belly to back

every night for eighteen years.

We are drawn to her,

our brightest light.

We warm ourselves nearby.

We curl up beside her,

ever-closer as her flames begin to dim,

fervently scribbling down words

describing how much she means to us.

I wrote this poem for a Celebration of Life this past weekend in Nashville and it was read by Tracey’s spouse Nan. Deep sigh. Much love.

Sharing with the Toads on the Tuesday Platform in the Imaginary Garden.