What Sound, Change?


I remember
sitting on the front porch
that August night
my father died
thinking surely I would know.
Surely there would be
some sign
some sound
to note the if and when
of his passing


change needs
no fanfare.
No crescendo.

I remember
leaving you
two years ago this day
“I will never see you again.”
No fanfare.
No crescendo.
Wet gravel beneath my tires,
winter rain against the window–
change’s only notes.

I remember.
Its aftermath
Still echoes
like the tempest
that brews
this morning.
I want
the thunder to
crash loudly.
Rattle the roof
and windows.
Mark the anniversary
with ferocity


change needs
no fanfare.
No crescendo.

From the archives, ©2008, Jen Payne

9 thoughts on “What Sound, Change?

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    1. You know, there’s such a subtle softening of grief over the years. It’s big and loud for a while. And sometimes it’s big and loud again – suddenly. Most of the time, though, I am grateful for the constant presence of memory and spirit and love. It’s a sweet foundation.

    2. I sometimes akin it to a knife blade what dulls with age. Once it cut with each touch now, though, blade dulled through use, it’s just a subtle reminder that stirs your awareness but which rarely breaks the skin.

  1. As I continue to work through the loss of a good friend of mine, I am also reminded of losing my grandma almost two years ago. While life continues to move forward, I am very aware of the empty spaces left behind by those who have passed. While joy has returned in my daily life, I still feel their absence.

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