the dinner table loses a chair, a place mat removed
but the meals are still made for six
and the meat is someone’s favourite dish
someone who isn’t missing
but is not in their usual place,
the armchair facing the front door,
the wooden bench in the gardens,
the mug so tenderly held
the deep laugh that ended with a sigh
laughing together sounds different than it did before
familiar hands, held to reimagine what is almost gone
similar smiles, familiar eyebrows – and the way they furrow
finding jokes to paint over what is almost lost
the human mind is so cruel with remembering
gone in bits and then lots
before you are ready
before you notice it’s leaving
and then you meet someone who reminds you
and go home – heart heavy with guilt
the punishing self, going back when you’ve gone so far ahead.
hard to remember to keep the hope brewing
keep the kitchen alive, the pot half-full
leave the bedroom and bid the night adieu
to not let it seep into the next morning, the newer day
pour yourself a cup – maybe two, maybe another
the pot will brew another ounce of hope – hopefully, another litre
and if you find it empty, fret not – delay, be not swayed.
you’ll find a comrade writing a poem
despite his larger losses, his emptier pots
and both of you will find, that all you live for are words
when they come, before they leave
and piecing them together to make something worthwhile;
meanwhile,
the pot brewing before the cup empties.
This poem by Norah L. Tochhawng is a quiet, tender and heartbreaking poem about grief. It’s not a loud painful poem but whispers the intimate spaces and rituals that bring life together, and with it the incompleteness that staggers when losing someone.
The first verse uses physical objects – dinner table losing a chair, a place mat removed,. And creates tension with the mention of food still being made for the person of the removed chair and the lost place mat. The poem lists out intimate information, a favourite dish made for someone who is not missing but is not in their usual place,. Objects with relations – an “armchair facing the front door/ a wooden bench in the gardens” and moves to a mug held tenderly and the laugh that ends with a sigh, pulling the verse together in the last line with how different laughing together has become. The insistence by the psychic while the physical changes, persistence of the memory and its attempt to reconcile with the present and physical.
The second verse speaks of hands held together “to reimagine what is almost lost” which can mean two things, one. Of a realization after grief of who is still around. Two. A negation to the idea that people can be lost/gone. Acknowledging how memory can be cruel, how it hides away bits and chunks before we realize we forget them. Only to be reminded someday by someone and to retreat-”heart heavy with guilt”. Punishing ourselves, to go back to the past while having lived “so far ahead” in the present.
The last verse starts off with how hard it is to remember to keep moving, to have a pot of hope brewing, the kitchen active, and in a play of the classic ‘glass half empty, glass half full’-“pot half full”. To leave the bedroom and to say farewell to the night, to try to not let the night seep into the next day, towards a newer day, the poem advises to pour a cup, not just once but twice and even more. The poem tells us that the “pot will brew another ounce of hope – hopefully, another litre” and reassures us that if we find the pot empty, to delay but not be swayed. Telling us that we will find comrades in writing, claiming his larger losses and his emptier pots, and then both will find that all we live for are words. In the last seven lines, the poem points towards literature and storytelling and how they have been there to console us, helping us realize that we are never as alone as we think we are, how our greatest despair may have been spoken of or written of by someone. The poem ends beautifully, continuing the pot analogy by saying that while we piece together our words to make something worthwhile the pot is brewing before the cup empties.
