The Mahogany Box
sits, just out of the way,
on the tile in front of our fireplace
(if this is ironic in some way, it is unintentional)
I left it in the box it shipped in for a week
until I could no longer stand to read the words
“Cremated Remains” on all sides
I don’t know what to do with my father’s ashes
and every day that passes since his death
feels like time wasted
I should plan a memorial but I don’t know how
I don’t want my dad to be referred to
in past tense
some days I say hello to the box, press
my hand to the top the way he used to rest
his hand on my knee
some days I lay awake and am afraid of my
living room, I cannot understand how my dad
fits in a box I can carry
I worry that I am not grieving correctly
I don’t want him to be disappointed
in me even now
he used to say he would follow me anywhere
would always be there for me, no matter the distance,
no matter how far
they tell me he is always with me now but
that’s just the thing you say to the grieving, he
feels farther away than ever
if, one day, I scatter the ashes, bury them or
whatever it is I am supposed to do,
what then, do I do with an empty box?
…..
This poem is from the chapbook Hurt Sounds by Isabella J Mansfield – NWVS #185 (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/hurt-sounds-by-isabella-j-mansfield-nwvs-185/
In 2023, Isabella J Mansfield released Lemon, her collection on disability and the intersection of physical and mental health. It spent a lot of time on Best Seller shelves at indie bookstores across the midwest. An avid reader himself, Mansfield can sometimes hear her fathers voice in those very bookstores, boasting, “That’s my daughter!” She lives in Michigan with her husband and son.
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