Hostname: page-component-586b7cd67f-vdxz6 Total loading time: 0 Render date: 2024-11-30T15:07:32.221Z Has data issue: false hasContentIssue false
  • English
  • Français

The masterpiece that once was you

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  22 May 2024

Alexis E. Ivec Open the ORCID record for Alexis E. Ivec [Opens in a new window]
Alexis E. Ivec*
Affiliation:
Department of Neurology and Neurological Sciences, Stanford University, Palo Alto, CA, USA
*
Email: [email protected]
Rights & Permissions [Opens in a new window]

Abstract

An abstract is not available for this content. As you have access to this content, full HTML content is provided on this page. A PDF of this content is also available in through the ‘Save PDF’ action button.
Type
Poetry
Information
Palliative & Supportive Care , Volume 22 , Issue 5 , October 2024 , pp. 1531
Check for updates
Creative Commons
Creative Common License - CCCreative Common License - BYCreative Common License - NCCreative Common License - SA
This is an Open Access article, distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike licence (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0), which permits non-commercial re-use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the same Creative Commons licence is used to distribute the re-used or adapted article and the original article is properly cited. The written permission of Cambridge University Press must be obtained prior to any commercial use.
Copyright
© The Author(s), 2024. Published by Cambridge University Press.

The Obituary:
a stark biographical account, distilled
like bright light blaring, but scarcely tracing
the masterpiece that once was you.

“A loving wife”
will never quite capture the glint in your eyes
which betrays poised composure. A warmth for him,
spilling through cracks in the stony façade.

“A zest for travel”
will never truly replicate, your breath always stolen
as the plane’s wheels escape, the Earth.
Only now, the twilight of your travels leads you here, where
I hold your brain in my hands
with my heart in my throat.

The Obituary
fails to factor forgotten treasures:
Butterfly kisses, on your cheek matching those in your chest
The train station woman, wearing your mother’s perfume
Songs sung with strangers, after a meteor shower

Elements elusive to everyone else.
Enigmas which evaporate like smoke in the night.

So, sing to me your poetry, that I may paint the sky
shades of surprise, sorrow, sanguinity
forever detailing the intricacies of
the masterpiece that once was you.

Competing interests

The author(s) declare none.