She Walked

Among the Blossoms

DENIS GARRISON

She Wa lked

Among the B lossoms

Other Books by Denis M. Garrison:

Port of Call and Other Poems (chapbook, 1975)

Three Odd Tales (short fiction chapbook, 2005)

The Brink at Logan Pond (2005)

Eight Shades of Blue (haiku) (2005)

Hidden River: Haiku (2006)

Sailor in the Rain and Other Poems (2007)

Fire Blossoms: The Birth of Haiku Noir (2008)

First Winter Rain: Selected Tanka from

2006–2010 (2010)

She Wa lked

Among the B lossoms

Denis M. Garrison

Publ i shed by Lu lu Press , Inc .

SHE WALKED AMONG THE BLOSSOMS

A T R I B U T E T O

D E B O R A H L Y N N R I P P E R G E R G A R R I S O N

Published by Lulu Press, Inc.

627 Davis Dr. STE 300

Morrisville, NC 27560-7101

www.lu lu .com

Copyright © 2018 by Denis M. Garrison,

Baltimore, Maryland, USA

All poems in this collection were originally copyrighted

(© 1975–2018) by the author, Denis M. Garrison.

Photographs and other artwork herein either are the

property of the author or are in the public domain.

ISBN: 978-0-359-07224-8

Printed in the United States of America

2018

This book i s ded ica ted

w ith end less love and g rat i tude

to the passion of my l i fe , my beloved w ife,

Deborah Lynn R ipperger Gar r i son

January 2 , 1951–June 27, 2018

Swan Song

— for Deborah Lynn Ripperger

Emerald fronds are glinting

In the opalescent night

And a poignant masque is playing

In the stunning lunar light.

Wispy spirits of the dead,

in endless agony, are watching,

Solitary people,

in their loneliness, are staring,

A fawn, all unaware,

in natural innocence is gazing,

As I burn and burst and blossom

In the arbor of, the ardor of your arms.

1

When she comes in, the whole room fades and

becomes mere background for her eyes.

2

When I Saw

“Keep her”

My heart tells me.

With her married sisters,

So like them, yet she’s all her own.

Keeper!

Harriett Clark Deborah Garrison Priscilla Flory

3

When you touched my cheek,

although you could have walked away,

I knew it then: even if I

never feel your touch again,

I am yours.

4

Behold Her

Only

the finest art

fills this gallery where

we stand, gazing. But beauty’s in

your eyes.

5

honeymooners

in the old diner

seconds of everything

6

your face, in the

leafing orchard—

pearl amongst emeralds

7

home from the coast

when the door opens

coffee scent and her voice

8

we were a couple,

just two of us, together—

no one else existed

our love was like a high wall

nothing could come between us

9

Fair Trade

Promise

me May, my love,

and I will suffer through

the winters of our lives to be

with you.

10

a lover

soft, warm, wrapped round me

comforts me

and dispels my terrors

when I wake . . . or when I sleep

11

in time of terror

my faith in merciful God

it gives me courage

my dear wife’s hand holding mine

as I step up to death’s door

12

touch my face

look into my eyes

kiss my lips

mix your heat with mine . . .

now is all we have

13

Your smile, so secret in the dark,

is betrayed by your moon-flashing eyes.

14

I traced your features

with a new leaf—

no thought of autumn

15

beauty at day’s end

your face in the low warm glow

youthful in rose light

beneath the old chestnut tree

that once was younger than we

16

Suddenly quiet, she gently hangs up,

touches her father’s photo.

17

awake . . . alone

waiting for dawn again

the night rain

18

baby food aisle

the woman standing still

her empty cart

19

an empty lot

except these five stone steps

granite solitude

there is so much to pass on

but no one there to listen

20

driving home again

after hours of one way talk

suddenly, hot tears

21

Waiting for her at the clinic.

Windows writhe with rivulets of rain.

22

Dazed, in the doctor’s office;

the foreign sound of laughter in the hall.

23

The earth

turns beneath us

and curves away from us,

rises to meet us as we fall

at last.

24

Carpet

of blown petals

covers the forest path.

We two walk on slain beauty. The

rain falls.

25

her frail hands

tracing the fragile veins

autumn leaf

26

we smile through tears

and make hopeless plans

as if we had time

one of us is dying

and both of us know

27

after all these years

I can hear her eyes speak

when words fail

made mute by grief, by pain,

I talk by touch

28

as the cold gurney

shudder-squeaks down the hall

for one more exam

your hand in mine

makes us safe

29

with my lady wife

I pick my path carefully

in first winter rain

glory faded, forgotten

fallen leaves choke the gutters

30

seasons come and go

the lake has changed,

days are darker now—

dwindling and loss, yet, I’m rich

with your hand in mine

31

she is my best friend

first and only wife of mine

my life in balance

less the sorrow, loss and grief

plus the beauty, love and joy

32

gripping your wrist

deafened by falling water

I see only

your frightened eyes

how long . . . how long

33

your broken bones

pain me in a place

morphine can’t reach

I want to take your wounds

but not in trade for mine

34

intensive care

all the chirping monitors

inconsolable

song of the cicadas

rising to a deaf moon

35

in the long night

in the darkness of grief

blind to hope

and deaf to prayers

I hold tightly to your hand

36

a swi f t crossed the sky

that moment

she was gone

37

time falters

as I walk back to my car

from her new grave—

chilling, familiar touch!

fingertips slipping away

38

the cuckoo clock strikes

I smile at the soft dawn light

until my eyes rest

on your bare dressing table,

on all the empty hangers

39

moving house—

there, under my desk,

your lost photo

smiling in sweet ignorance

of cruel days ahead

40

since you left

I sleep very deeply

alone in our bed—

good practice, perhaps;

since coffins sleep only one

41

the day she died

she walked among the blossoms—

her tears of joy

42

To earth

now returned,

from sight escaped,

but in our hearts you shall

remain.

43

By day,

I can smile

but when night falls,

I see your eyes again,

weeping.

44

empty courtyard

howls with wind and rain

hollow desolation—

all night in your chair

listening for your voice

45

Death be damned!

mankind is immortal

we know no time

when we were not—

we are dreamers . . . not the dream

46

you left too soon!

I know you could not stay . . .

I saw the CAT scan

there was so much more to come!

forgetting, I turn to you . . .

47

you called me

and I followed you

a thousand miles—

now you have passed over,

do not fret . . . I will follow

48

her grave all grassed over—

missing the touch of her hand,

the brush of her lips;

this phantom pain . . .

it is killing me

49

in the clouds

your face for a moment

dissipated by wind

and drunk on sunlight

I call out for you again

50

gone so long

days pass without

remembering

waking to your voice

calling my name

51

out of the roses

a mammoth redwood rises

a tanager flushes

in ruby-splintered rush

the memory of your smile

52

2 A . M .

s i t t i n g i n h e r c h a i r

t h e s i l e n c e

53

my love

will last beyond

the final fall of things.

past pale of echoes, my love will

be there.

54

l i t t l e g o l d f i n c h

h a s f l o w n a w a y

h e r s o n g l i n g e r s i n t h e a i r

55

DEBORAH

I met you,

loved you,

married you,

cherished you,

cared for you . . .

buried you.

I am not done.

I’ll follow you.

We’ll meet again,

my love.

56

In conclusion, these three thoughts:

Life can be held only in an open hand.

Mauna Loa’s fires are pale blue flickers

compared to the inferno of the human heart.

Why do I write?

Because poetry is a rebuke

to the silence of the grave.

57

Out of print collections of the

poetry of Denis M. Garrison.

58

She Walked Among the Blossoms

This tribute in poetry to Deborah Lynn Ripperger Garrison, beloved wife of poet Denis M. Garrison, is illustrated with photos from

her life (1951–2018).

Denis M. Garrison is an internationally publishedpoet and essayist, the author of several print andonline collections of his well received verse. Thispoetry collection is his memorial and tribute to themost important person in his life, his best friend,his one great love, his wife and muse of 44 years.