November Remembrances

[alee_grrl]

In the northern hemisphere November is a time when the days darken earlier and shadows seem more prevalent. This can make it easier for our personal demons to trouble us. As the holidays approach we often feel our losses more deeply. For many people I know November is a time for remembrance and memorial. Whether it is remembering their dearly departed on All Saints Day/Dios de los Muertos, remembering Veteran's and the cost of war on Armistice/Veteran's Day, or remembering holiday seasons past be they good or bad. For me personally it is a mix of all these things, plus the annual memorial that is my birthday, mixed with the anniversary of a dreadful storm that I witnessed as a child.. Most would not think of birthdays as memorials, but in the sense that it is a day for remembering and contemplating the past I find that birthdays are the ultimate memorial. I felt it fitting that I start our week on remembrance and memorial since today is my birthday.

It is a month that always makes me think of the past and the many uncertain associations that I have with the month. It is also a time for me to reflect on the positive things that have come into my life, and the wonders of friendship and love that I've experienced as I've grown older. I wanted to write a poem that captured this mix of feelings and contemplation. I am going to put the poem under a cut as it may contain some triggering material for folks. For all the darkness and rawness contained in the poem, I did try to end on a lighter more hopeful tone. Also, for those interested the storm referred to was one that hit the Shreveport, LA area on November 15, 1987. It spawned several tornadoes, including the F3 that essentially went right over our heads.

Feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome. I also welcome people to share in the comments what they remember this month.



November

November is an uncertain month
amber light and sunshine promises
blown into sudden and terrible storms
Mom would say it was temperamental
with that tone that always added
"just like you"
the child who just couldn't wait to be born
"such a good baby you were, so quiet"
and the look would say
"why can't you be quiet now?"

November is a strange month
just far enough into the school year
to make me older than my classmates
as if I needed anything else to set me apart
this strange kid who didn't talk quite right
who'd crossed the desert in a blue Vega
no air conditioning and too much stuff
come to rest in bayou country
then we'd move again
and I'd still be a stranger in a strange land

November is for remembering
worn shaky hands holding poppies
their stories of sacrifice--reminders
of the cost of peace
the candles lit
memory and wishes
blown across the world
debris of life's storm

November is when my world began
and when it was all torn down again
seven years old, days from being eight
a blustery day turned into a blustery night
and I learned to fear the wind
to watch for that strange cast of the sky
to listen to the pattern of the rain
Jeopardy was on when the warnings flashed
I lay stretched across the shag-blue carpet
hamburgers taunted my nose
the rain beat against the trailer
lighting flashed thick and bright
the thunder shook my bones
I paid no mind
I had seen storms before
when the power went out my nerves frayed
just a bit more, and I stood at the back door watching
though it was too dark to see
I don't remember if neighbors brought the warning
or if we had turned on a radio
I knew only that a funnel had been spotted
I knew only that it was headed our way
we went outside to hide
which seems strange, but
trailers are fragile and bayous don't have cellars
under the carport was a barbeque, post cemented deep
and the children were told to lie down and grab hold
the adults put themselves on the top of the pile
holding us firmly in place
the sideways rain pelted against our skin
the wind tugged and pulled
I wanted nothing but to bury my face in my dogs' fur
to know that we would all be alright
but the dogs were hiding somewhere else
and no one was certain we would be alright
the noise was terrible and indescribable
it was felt more than heard
the sky roared and spat
debris flying everywhere
a groan, a creak, and the tin of the carport peeled off
and then the noise moved off
we waited, cold to our bones and I
couldn't tell my tears from the rain
we were the lucky ones
spared by the storm
but so much around us was gone
the world as I knew it ended not with fire,
not with ice, but with wind

November is for thanks
giving gratitude for a good harvest
for the blessings in our lives
but expectations can run high
disappointments can run deep
bitterness and anger could erupt
the unexpected fist through a wall
shouting matches and things thrown
and I would wonder why I wasn't enough
to give thanks for, to love
not understanding that I wasn't the cause
and I would always hope
that next year would be different
eventually it was

November is for celebration
with chosen family and friends, lit
candles and pumpkin pie for breakfast
for sunlight promises more often held
and the knowledge that life grows on
even after the worst of storms

Comments

[cadenzamuse]

Happy birthday to you!

I also was directly under a tornado when I was...nine? ten?, and I think you do a really good job describing the feel of the experience in a way that works, because I find it very difficult to describe to someone who hasn't had that experience.

[alee_grrl]

Thank you for both the birthday wishes and the feedback on the poem. It is incredibly hard to describe the experience of being directly under a tornado to those who have never experienced it. I tried to avoid some of the cliches (it sounded like a bunch of bees or a train) because they have never really captured the sound for me.

[cirque]

This was wonderful <3 your thoughts and the poem both; the description of the tornado was particularly tangible. Living in the UK, I can barely imagine how traumatising tornadoes are, but your poem really put it into perspective.

And happy birthday!

[alee_grrl]

Thank you.

[calissa]

It is interesting to notice how things translate across the hemispheres. For example, Christmas is stubbornly celebrated in December despite the sometimes blazing temperatures. However, our memorial month has kept to the season and therefore falls in April. Remembrance Day is quietly marked in November, but our big memorial day is 25 April, marking the ANZAC invasion of Gallipoli. A number of personal memorials also fall in that month.

Thank you for sharing this poem. The experience sounds truly horrifying. I like that the last verse ends on a hopeful note and one that ties it back to other parts of the poem.

Happy birthday!

[alee_grrl]

I had wondered how some of the traditions might differ for the southern hemisphere folks. I know that Christmas tends to be celebrated on Dec. 25 either way, but other yearly festivals and traditions that follow the seasons would likely be different.

Thank you for the feedback and the birthday wishes! I wanted to end on a hopeful note, for as dark as things might have been they have gotten better.

[luzula]

Hey, thanks for sharing this! It really grabbed me when I was reading it, especially the bit about the storm.

[alee_grrl]

Thank you.

[raze]

Ooof. What a beautiful, powerful poem. Though I evaded the destructive tornadoes in Alabama a few years ago, seeing neighboring communities utterly devastated was very sobering. Thank you for sharing it.

[alee_grrl]

Thank you for your kind words.