an old writer and his words

  • THAT VOICE

    It is often little more thana faint whisper, distant, butnagging, on occasion in the voiceof a parent now long dead.You can strive to ignore it,may have momentary successin that endeavor, but it willrecur when you think that ithas finally been banished.It is persistent and that, morethan anything, is what makes itso irritating for you know…

    Lou Faber

  • THIS TOO

    When I hear “this tooshall pass,” I hopeat least for a whilethey are not talking about me.The flowers outsidedo not ask such questions,too busy drawing eyesto really care.And the now deadpalm tree in the yardhas become stoicjust watching,always watching.

    Lou Faber

  • UNSHOVELING

    There is much to love here,not the least of which is the lackof snow always needing to be shoveledwhen your back is most sore,when you need to be somewhereon a schedule the clouds chose to ignore.But the one thing you cannot find,the thing you never expectedto be that which you most missis the polychromatic season.For…

    Lou Faber

  • IT WILL WAIT

    I’ve finally given up the internal debateabout whether to turn the phone offduring the night, no longer worryingthat I would miss a critical call.I have lived more than long enoughto know that the only calls that comein the heart of the night are thoseannouncing a disaster, a crisis ormost often, recently, another death.I know now…

    Lou Faber

  • WORDS, ONLY WORDS

    How many wordshave I writtenyou will never readcould not hearstill we speakto each otherin a languageknown onlyto the deadand the mourningto a motherand a forgottenchild now grown. First appeared in Homer’s Odyssey Magazine, June 26, 2024https://homersodysseymag.com/blog/f/missing-my-judas-dream-on-and-words-only-words-by-louis-faber?blogcategory=Poetry

    Lou Faber

  • SO CLOSE AND YET

    Some say that we were oncebriefly so close you couldproperly call us one person.I know it did not last, and Igave up looking for youfor the longest time, althoughI always felt the connectionbetween us had never weakened.Years later I did get withineight or so feet of you but younever acknowledged my presenceso I moved on…

    Lou Faber

  • ADVICE COLUMN

    As I have aged, I have learnedthat when I need advice and my wifeis not available or chooses not tocomment, I can turn to friendsand relatives who have diedfor their advice is usually quiteon point and needs no interpretation.I have not known them to misleador to suggest what I cannot imaginepossible, for they say and…

    Lou Faber

  • STILL MOURNING

    I think about you often, lying besidemy grandparents on the hillsideoverlooking the Kanawha River,bathed in the utter silencethat only the dead can clearly hear.I think of you more often than shewho replaced you, she who laterreplaced me with her own, Ian adjacency, still useful butno longer fully or truly valued.I think of you lovingly, knowingfor…

    Lou Faber

  • AT GRAVESIDE

    It is odd that cemeteries arequite often the site of oration,soliloquies delivered with great emotion,be it love, regret or anger.Often they are paeans or jeremiadsmeant to be delivered in personbut held back until it is only the stonethat bears the brunt of the words.And yet a burden is liftedfrom the speakers for they assumethe dead…

    Lou Faber

  • SISTER

    I can picture her sittingin her small apartmentholding a cup of tea.This is Parma, or perhaps,Milan, two of the threecities I visited in Italy.Her hair is long, grayand white, her smile pained.She does not know I existbut we share so much,a father we never metfirst and foremost.We will never meet,for she, too, may be dead…

    Lou Faber