It has been one year
without you.
I could take off mourning now,
remove a black cloak of outward grief,
but I will never remove the sense of loss.
It has been one year
without you,
but I still hear your voice
I hear your laugh,
your bad jokes,
another repetition of your life story.
I could take off a mourning cloak
but I will wear you on my shoulder,
hear you in my ears,
love you with every breath
until we meet again.
.
https://shawnbird.com/2015/07/25/obituary-herbert-mosses-duguay/
Turning pages in the address book
cross a line across another entry.
Turning pages
studying the names crossed out
A memorial of friends and family gone
Greetings sent in murmured prayers
to rest in peace.
In the Toronto dawn
the sun crept silently up to the
last mortal remains of the pudgy bandit,
laid out on the sidewalk like a sacrifice.
The call went out:
Three-one-one! Three-one-one! Come!
The City promised swift removal of the corpse.
But–political promises being oft full of air–
the raccoon remains remained throughout the day.
Not content to leave sleeping Procyonidae lie
crowds marked the site of his demise,
memorial to the adorable, nocturnal beast
with flowers, photos, Tweets, and cards,
pseudo-grief growing with the day
while #deadraccoonto began to decay.
Until by the light of the moon (a raccoon’s party hour)
The City van came to gather the cadaver,
but left the flowers.
.
.
.
This was a social media event in July . The body of a raccoon was found and reported. A spontaneous mock-memorial grew up around it. It was all recorded on Twitter, with even a council member (Norm Kelly) participating. I think it makes a fascinating commentary of social media through parody.
.
An Argyll and Sutherland Highlander’s
simple service:
honour guard,
in respectful silence, stand proud
beneath a towering arch,
the bronze visages of
the nation’s memorial to those
fallen in foreign wars,
Keeping faith at the tomb
of the unknown soldier,
Clad in kilt and jacket,
green as the fields of France,
red and white stockings over
shining white spats,
bronze warriors towering above
wept
as one of Princess Louise’s Highlanders
fell.
.
.
.
This poem references the powerful political cartoon by Bruce MacKinnon drawn in the aftermath of the shooting of Corporal Nathan Cirillo (a reservist with the Argylls and Sutherland Highlanders) on Parliament Hill in Ottawa, October 22, 2014:
Here is Corp Cirillo guarding the national war memorial:
The Argylls and Sutherland Highlanders of Canada on parade.
(I thought I was just posting links to original sites, but the images are showing up. Copyright remains with original sources).
Family and friends
gather for funeral to
tell stories:
laughter
tears
admiration
appreciation.
I hope she knew
she touched this many.
that they’d have to
bring in extra chairs,
though she was a newcomer
to this community.
When cancer is found,
why not call everyone
to celebrate the life
while the body is there to hear?
Why not send her off for chemo
with these stories of love,
respect, and support?
Why wait to gather
when she’s not here
to receive the blessing?
.
.
.
Memorial today, packed house to celebrate Auntie Linda. I just kept wishing she’d been here to know how many lives she’d touched.
I was reminded of a send off my friend had for her husband when he was heading south for radiation, bone marrow transplant, etc. Relatives came from afar, friends packed the building. We sang, we told stories, we laughed, we sent him off with blessings for his young family, knowing in his heart how he’d inspired people. When he passed away a few months later, we gathered all again with sadder hearts, but that time together lifting him up has stayed with me as a very precious occasion to support a young family in a time of tragedy.
Shawn L. Bird 
