no ceremony
On the ordinary disguises worn by final moments.
A poem about endings that arrive without announcement and reveal themselves only after they are gone.
- Form
- Poetry
- Collection
- Selected writing
- Authorship
- by bryson
The last time i didn’t notice was probably something small.
The last grocery receipt with my favorite candy before they stopped making it.
The last spring i could still see the sunset through the maple tree before it grew too tall.
The last time someone called, just to say hello.
The last drive before that old shortcut closed for construction
and quietly became the new way things were.
The last time that hoodie still smelled like someone,
The last time i quietly checked if it still did.
The last time a key fit a lock before they became strangers to each other,
no longer recognizing what they had once opened.
The last morning i walked into a room before it became the room
where everything happened.
The last time it held innocence within its walls
Forever, almost never leaves dramatically.
It leaves the coffee cup on the counter.
It leaves half a loaf of bread.
It leaves a voicemail you don’t bother saving because there will be another.
It leaves by saying, “see you later.” Even when it won’t.
I do mourn the endings. But what i mourn more is how ordinary they looked.
Because if they hadn’t,
I would have stood a little longer under that tree.
Bought two of those candy bars.
Taken the long way home.
Answered the phone even though i was busy.
Held that hoodie to my face for just a minute longer.
Waited one more moment at the door.
I don’t always wish to know when the last time will be.
I only wish i had known enough to see
That it will often arrive INTRODUCED as ordinary
ONLY TO reveal it held so much more,
After it has already gone.