The Holidays always makes me think about family, those living and those lost. I am fortunate to have a sister with whom I am close and a husband who sometimes knows me better than I know myself. Both of my parents died too young. I find that the rituals I engage in at this time have roots in my childhood; the ornaments I put on my tree, the “London Fogs” we drink as we open presents Christmas morning. But the longing I have for my mother and father is strongest at Christmas time. I turn to poetry to help me understand the connection with family and the loss of parents. I was reading Terrance Hayes’ poem, Arbor for Butch in this month’s APR and remembered how complicated family really is. Although I do not have children of my own, feeling the link between generations is as fundemental as our DNA. Poetry must be in our DNA. I like to think so.
