Book of the Week: And So It Was
Jean Jorgensen’s jute-bound chapbook is subtitled “poems for my father,” and so they prove to be: a tanka sequence full of personal reminiscence, coming to terms with the various roles the author has played: daughter, friend, enemy, caregiver. Her experiences are certain to find resonance in anyone who has held a similar relationship with a parent or loved one (MooseTrout Interactive, 1998).
You can read the entire book in the THF Digital Library.
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Haiku featured in the Book of the Week Archive are selected by Jim Kacian, following a concept first explored by Tom Clausen, and are used with permission.
this north country now so scenic and fertile— fifty years ago Lord . . . the swamp and bush you’d plough through just to reach some higher groundhometown dance— in the basement bathroom dad’s girlfriend puts on her lipstick gazing at me in a chipped mirrora short first visit with my aging father— unlike the setting sun I do not know when I will come againmy father so filled with tears about the past— God forbid should someone see him cry like “sentimental old women”infrequent visit to her father’s house— barn kitten in for the first time also explores the kitchen . . . cautiouslypoems for my father I offer up a prayer this thanksgiving— at 55 years . . . old enough to know with forgiveness comes peace
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Dear Jean, Thank you. I read your book today and now the last poem in this post. It is true that each person in a family experiences the family in a unique way. I was 29 when my father died in 1983, and so in my 60s now. My love for him transferred to my mother’s care, and then when she died in 2004, I needed to grieve for them both. Someone said, “Grief is the price of love.” Now my memories are more gentle and varied – I am slow in these areas. Blessings, Ellen