Content With My Delusions, Jacqueline Hurlbert,
Only I could see him,
my dark friend, slim
with rabbit ears
and glowing eyes—
so kind, so wise.
He comforted me
I spoke to him alone–see
no one else believed in him,
but friends we were and are–
and from me he never strayed far.
I gave him a gift, a striped shirt,
and he said, sorry, don’t be hurt–
but I’ve got to go away for now.
somehow, remember us, don’t fuss–
this is only a phase, it’s ever thus.
(Count the days. Discuss.)
Today is my ninetieth birthday,
and I think I feel his glowing gaze
from somewhere in the night.
He’s come for me, my old dark friend—
Hello, good-bye, this is my end.
(We begin again.)
Today on dVerse, Linda has asked us to write poems based on the work of artist Jackie Hurlbert. Her Web site can be found here.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
Ah, Merril, this is so poignant, it brought tears to my eyes. To know our imaginary friend will return at the end of our life is so beautiful.
Thank you, Linda, for letting me know my poem elicited such a strong emotion for you!
Merril, I like the compassion bond that is shared between the two and how they are bound only by the cyclicity of things. A tender poem and a lovely spin on the photo. I wrote to this one also.
Thank you very much, Jade!
I will read yours now. 🙂
You are very welcome.
There’s a part of me that desperately hopes our imaginary friends come back to us at the end.
Yes, as long as they’re comforting imaginary friends. 🙂
This is a chilling poem, but I love the last line. 😮
Thank you very much. I thought it was a bit creepy, too. 🙂
Such a moving piece, Merril. Nicely done.
Thank you very much, Jill.
One of the figures reminds me of a character in Anne Tyler’s A Spool of Blue Thread. Eerie, yet hopeful, like the last line!
I don’t know the character, but thank you, Marian!
Oh my. This is very good in a startling way.
Thank you so much! I’m pleased you had that reaction.
Everyone needs a Harvey, especially the older we get. And the more alone we get. But the end here does take a particularly dark turn, so . . . .
Thanks, Luanne. Well, that happens to us all, too. . .unless maybe you’ve made some kind of bargain–signed a book, have a portrait in the attic. You know, the usual. 🙂
For years, my wife has joked about the painting in my attic, so I’ve finally let the gray hair and lines on my face to show. I haven’t told her yet about the imaginary friend.
Hahahahaha. Well as long as your friend doesn’t make a fuss, I guess you don’t have to tell her. 😉
I laughed so hard. You have NO idea how many times I make verbal allusions to both the portrait and the signing. Two of my 3 favorites. The other one is the boy who noticed the king was naked.
🙂
I love it! The imaginary friend was the first thing that came to mind on this painting! It is such a good way to portray what might be going on. This is great… in childhood and then in the second childhood.
Thank you so much, Dwight! 🙂
You are welcome!
I really like how you captured the closeness of having that imaginary friend. The ending is poignant – I like to believe they come alive at the end of our lives.
Thank you so much, Grace. It would be nice. . .
Those friends never really leave us. And you’ve captured perfectly how the past becomes present as we approach the end of our life. (K)
Thank you very much, Kerfe.
The shadow embraced and honoured.
Yes, thank you.
Very beautifully poignant, Merril (our mothers are so present)
Thank you very much, Derrick.
You picked up on something that was probably in the back of my mind.
I think so
So nicely written!
Thank you very much!
My pleasure 💕
🙂
I love this! What a sweet story your poem makes.
Thank you so much, Marie!
Aww, this was wonderfully woven with such an impact at the end, Merril. You found just the way to tell this, with gentle words which are so touching. Love dVerse to fit the painting!
Thank you very much for your kind comment, Robin!
Bonding is always a good thing!
Trying to catch up … whew … never easy. Elton John concert this weekend. 🙂
Thank you, Frank.
I like the ending, beginning again.
Thank you, Frank!
This is perfect for the image, Merril. Haunting, yet comforting.
Thank you very much, Ken. I like that “haunting, yet comforting.”
I love how you tied the end together… to rejoin with childhood…
Thank you very much, Björn!
Beautiful, Merrill, and Happy Birthday. This one really came full circle.
Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed the poem.
I was totally confused why you wished me “Happy Birthday,” until I realized the poem said it was my ninetieth birthday. That’s simply the poem. Gosh, I hope I don’t look 90! 🙂
My birthday is in December.
Oops! No, you certainly do not look 90.
Good to know. 😉
Oh Merril, this was absolutely wonderful!
Beautifully done!
Thank you so much, Dale! 🙂
Wonderful interpretation of Jacquline’s art. Strange blsck bunny. Well written Merill.
Thank you very much, Rob!
Your poem reminds me of my prose – I have a difficult time sometimes writing about “normal,” since I feel that what’s more normal than NOT seeing a long-eared dark friend, is seeing one and embracing the friendship. This poem has so many complex and glorious elements. For one, it actually celebrates the imagination that dementia encourages, and embraces it. (I know, you’re not celebrating dementia – we all know how horrific it is), but if we find some positive points of it – like finding a dark quiet long-eared friend, gone since childhood – we find ease into the stage of leaving ‘normal’ and going to a better place.
Thank you very much. I wasn’t consciously thinking about dementia, but perhaps that is there.
In our house, we still repeat things our girls’ stuffed animal “friends” said–and sing some of the songs those friends created. The Egg and Bear are still so alive to me, so I guess I also have a skewed sense of normal. 🙂
That’s the best kind of “normal.” 🙂
🙂
That’s one really nice imaginary friend – I’d like to have such a one return to me at the end. Beautifully imagined Merril thank you …
Thank you very much, Susan!
This is wonderful Merril!
Thank you so much, Holly!
You’re so welcome Merril
🙂