My dear father, Stephen Fisher, passed away unexpectedly at the end of September last year. That event is now one of the markers in my life, with a before and an after. I want to mark it here with some creativity because he inspired creativity in me.
My father had a serious interest in photography that lasted for more than seven decades. From him, I learned about noticing details like light, reflections, and patterns of shape and color. I also learned about the importance of honing the use of one’s tools to express an artistic vision.
At the time he passed away, my poetry group was about to start a month-long project experimenting with taking photos and then writing ekphrastic poems based on them. (An ekphrastic poem is inspired by a piece of visual art.) It seemed like it would be a perfect way to begin to process my loss and honor my father at the same time. It seemed that way in theory, but in reality my capacity for creativity—both due to tasks and emotional energy—was very limited at that time.
One day in the middle of that month, I was visiting his grave. A scene caught my eye, and I took some photos. One (shown below) struck me as a photo that he would particularly like. Later I realized it was perfect for the poetry group project.
The geese and the whole scene brought to mind Mary Oliver’s well-known poem “Wild Geese.” I decided to experiment with writing not just an ekphrastic poem, but also a golden shovel based on two lines from Oliver’s poem. (A golden shovel is a type of poem created by the poet Terrance Hayes in honor of the poet Gwendolyn Brooks. The ending words of each line of the golden shovel poem, when read down the right side of the poem, make one or more lines of an existing poem—in this case “Wild Geese.”)
My resulting poem and photo are an interweaving of inspiration, poetry, photography, my father, and me. And a fitting way to honor and remember him here. It was the only poem I wrote that month. I’m grateful I had an assignment of sorts to move me toward sitting down and writing a poem at that time.
Illusions of Infinity
a golden shovel after Mary Oliver’s “Wild Geese”
Settled into grass, rectangular grave markers tell
stories. A flock of geese, honking, “me!
me! me!” landed, strutted, and now stand about,
act as feathered distractions from despair,
Geese, grass, mourners, trees—this place is yours,
for landing, growing, resting, connecting, and
being. Taken by the gray pattern of birds and trunks, I
frame a photo, “Don’t show the tree’s tops, and they will
seem to reach to infinity,” my father would tell
me. The wind whispers through the leaves, “you,
you, you.” I take a picture that is mine
wishing I could see what yours would be. Meanwhile
markers, geese, and tree trunks dot the
grass, here, in this spot within the wide world,
where a flock lands and a flock goes
and trees are up, under, and on.
© Karin Fisher-Golton, 2023
The epilogue to this poem’s story is that one day, at the end of that month, I read the poem aloud at the cemetery. As I started to read, I noticed that the geese weren’t there, but in the middle of my reading, I heard them honking in the sky.
I’m glad to get to share about this experience with poets, among others, on Poetry Friday. I encourage any of you, poets or not, to visit Robyn Hood Black’s Life on the Deckle Edge blog for more Friday poetry and to enjoy her own post on the cozy, lovely aspects of a cup of tea.
Karin Fisher-Golton 
Your poem is so beautiful – with strong visual imagery which complements your wonderful photo and I love the lines you used as the Golden Shovel for your poem.
Thank you for sharing your poem and the story of its making with us. Wishing you solace and peace as you continue your journey into this new “after” in your life.
Thanks so much, Elisabeth.
This is a really lovely post from top to bottom, Karin.
Your poem reads smoothly and isn’t hindered by the golden shovel structure.
I’m glad the geese honked for your reading 🙂
Thank you, Tabatha. I’m so glad you experienced the golden shovel that way–it’s a challenge, and an interesting one. Those geese were a great audience.
Hi Dear Karin,
I have to be in a special mood to read poetry.
Somehow, Infinity:Remembering My Father, touched my heart.
Love
Yael
>
Thank you, Yael. I’m glad this one reached you.
BEautiful poem. I’m glad I got to read it after the meditation group this morning.
Thanks so much for coming by! It’s sweet to have some representation from the meditation group here.
Karin, such a lovely poem and the story of your process and how you came to write this one poem of this life-changing month is beautiful, including the epilogue. This part…So powerful…
“Geese, grass, mourners, trees—this place is yours,
for landing, growing, resting, connecting, and
being.”
Thank you, Denise. Somehow I hadn’t really absorbed that part of what I’ve done here is chronicled that time period. That’s good for me to see.
It feels like an especially loving poem in consort with your father, missing him and honoring him by trying hard to take a lovely picture, remembering his words about trees! Loving and connecting with Oliver’s words about the geese, thought-filled from a personal space. You showed your yearning with “I take a picture that is mine
wishing I could see what yours would be.” so beautifully. Thank you for sharing this important time in your life.
Thank you for seeing the heart in this.
Such a beautiful post. Thank you for sharing with us.
Thank you, Mary Lee.
Karin, I am so sorry for the loss of your father. He sounds like a wonderful, observant, and talented person. Your golden shovel is melancholy and beautiful.
Thank you for those thoughts, Tracey.
Yours is a lovely poem. When my brother, who I adored, died, I was unable to write about him without being too depressing. Maybe using this form made it possible for you so perhaps I’ll try again. I love the advice about leaving the tree tops to the imagination. Very smart.
Thanks so much, Janice. I think your insight about the golden shovel form making it possible to write is spot on, but I didn’t see that before. Those words were like anchors. That’s very helpful for me to keep in mind (and heart) moving forward.
This is so beautiful, Karin, and a lovely tribute not just to your father, but to your relationship with him. I love that the geese sang for both of you. Sending warm thoughts and sympathy your way… (PS My father died a little over two years ago and I wrote about him in my post today. Grief is such a journey.)
Thanks very much. I’m sorry for your loss too. I’m guessing two years does not feel so long. I look forward to reading your post.
Wow this gave me all the feels! I love this connection to your dad, and I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s a beautiful poem.
Thanks so much, Marcie.
Your poem beautifully weaves in Mary Oliver’s words–a beautiful tribute to your dad, and the wistfulness of loss: “I take a picture that is mine
wishing I could see what yours would be. “
Thank you for these thoughts, Buffy.
Karin, thank you for sharing such a personal expression of grief and love and wonder with your words and your photo. You chose a perfect line for your golden shovel. And how I love that you heard the geese honk!
Thank you! Those geese were a real bright spot.
Beautiful! Thank you so much for your evolution of this beautiful photo and poem. Your father would be so proud!
Awww, thank you.
Hello Karin, I am lifted by the geese contributing to your poem-reading, lifted by the geese-visited cemetery, lifted by this entire eloquent post in lyrical words & paired with image that could hang on a museum wall. It’s a meditation.
Thank you and wow. I’m letting that into my heart.
Yes – as Jan so aptly put into words, a meditation. Thank you, Karin, for being open to sharing such a personal poem and post. As others were, I was particularly struck by those trees, continuing out of the picture…. Thanks for the blessing of the geese, too – how lovely that they were a part of your experience and creating, and I imagine they might return. Extra prayers for you.
Thanks so much, Robyn. It was a more personal post than I usually do, but whenever I thought of not posting it, I knew I’d miss acknowledging this important shift in my life and creative life here on my blog if I didn’t. These comments have been a real comfort to me and reminders that we can support each other when we share of ourselves.
Thank you for hosting a lovely Poetry Friday and for the thoughtful way you described this post on your Poetry Friday blog post.