“Dear Friend” by Kathleen Carlton Johnson

You left at the end of March.
After the morning shift change
At the home.
A weeping fog thickly pools outside.

How did this happen?
Those who love you were unaware.
We could have sent a card or phoned.
A rectangular life is so much kinder.

Keeping in tune with your spirit
A young nurse found you
Mouth open, mildly cold, blue hands
You were in her company many times
And in agony when she left the room.

Back in a year ending in small numbers
Art briefly bloomed, deeper, much deeper,
The electric kiss, distracting.

But here they are, the cremation people,
To burn you into small particles like sand
No one will know how many you wounded    
With that singular focus, drawing out inner needs,
Grooming each friend for enchantment. 

Artist Statement

All art is a communication.  When seen or heard by others reverberates what is already known as a universal sound. 

Kathleen Carlton Johnson is both a visual artist and a poet.  Her work has appeared in Clockhouse, Rattle, Phoebe, Arboreal Lit, UP Reader, and poems appear in Yooper Poetry, the William and Mary Review, and others. She is the author of Roots in Water: Selected and New Poems, Modern History Press, 2024. She lives on the cusp of Lake Superior.