John Lennon's 25th Anniversary
25 years ago - I was walking home in Vancouver's West end, returning from a disastrous job interview on the Island, for my dream photographer's position on a newspaper. My chances had collapsed when I'd revealed to the editor I was 10 weeks pregnant.
It was raining - out of the fog emerged a woman, crying. She approached me, saying, "Did you hear? John Lennon's dead. He's been shot." I was stunned at the senseless loss and continued home to my parents, the song "Imagine' filling my head.
Waiting for me on the record player was a letter from my Swiss lover. The last time we'd spoken, he'd suggested getting married and having the baby together. Now, he was alluding to "another person", who had suggested that I might not really be pregnant, but was using this to get him to blackmail him into marrying me (followed with a ?? mark of his own) . He continued, "...now this person won't be with me because of you and the child, and so I am all alone with all my problems. "
He didn't know that my pregnancy was already in danger. I had spent the previous week in bed, trying to avoid movements which my doctor suspected could bring on a possible miscarriage. During which time my mother had stood by my side, shouting at me to get up. "You're just trying to have this baby!" I had gone to the Island, hoping that the job would offer me a way to support the child, should I find myself alone.
That night, I miscarried. Now for every anniversary of John Lennon's death, I remember the fog, the woman's plaintive voice announcing his death, and think of the phantom child who would have been, 25 years- today.
It was raining - out of the fog emerged a woman, crying. She approached me, saying, "Did you hear? John Lennon's dead. He's been shot." I was stunned at the senseless loss and continued home to my parents, the song "Imagine' filling my head.
Waiting for me on the record player was a letter from my Swiss lover. The last time we'd spoken, he'd suggested getting married and having the baby together. Now, he was alluding to "another person", who had suggested that I might not really be pregnant, but was using this to get him to blackmail him into marrying me (followed with a ?? mark of his own) . He continued, "...now this person won't be with me because of you and the child, and so I am all alone with all my problems. "
He didn't know that my pregnancy was already in danger. I had spent the previous week in bed, trying to avoid movements which my doctor suspected could bring on a possible miscarriage. During which time my mother had stood by my side, shouting at me to get up. "You're just trying to have this baby!" I had gone to the Island, hoping that the job would offer me a way to support the child, should I find myself alone.
That night, I miscarried. Now for every anniversary of John Lennon's death, I remember the fog, the woman's plaintive voice announcing his death, and think of the phantom child who would have been, 25 years- today.
Recuerdo of a
Morning in Monterrey
It came to be in
Monterrey
You came.
It BE.
We three
We lay in Monterrey
You entered
Did I tell you- no?
I told you nought.
And when I thought to feel it flow
Did I cry NO!
Did I cry?
No.
A silver spoon I
stole away
A spoon belonging to that day
That day belonging to the lips
Which steal in sips the stars away
The stars which trickle from the moon
To form the handle of the spoon.
Oh LIPS to SIP and
SUCK and SIGH
Oh lips to wish the world...
Good-bye?
If never Live
Then never Die
If never BE
Then never breathe in
Ecstasy
Linda Dawn Hammond
1980
For Rafael
Recuerdo...
posted by Dawn One at 1:43 pm
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