The Other Side of Light
Interpretation by Barbara McIlrath
I remember that day—the day I looked at the sky and wondered if I’d ever see light again. And I remember that night—the night I put the casserole in the oven, laid my head on the table and cried.
Most of these poems are written from another woman’s perspective. Someone imagined and mostly fictional. Someone whose skin I’m stepping into like a theatre costume and then acting out through words. But this poem is fully non-fiction.
This poem is me struggling with the unexpected death of my too young mom—being caught off guard by some random, uninvited thought like seeing her knobby knees sticking out from the hem of her polka dot robe, realizing that I can touch the robe, but that I can’t touch her, and then simply collapsing under the weight of my anguish.
I know you know what I mean.
So I guess this poem seeded, grew, and took its initial shape inside of me, but it’s really about us. About all of us.