I hardly knew her
no one did
few cared
she was old, bent, frail
She lived alone
in a fifth floor walk-up
struggling
the metal walker, her closest companion
Hellos were tentative, bowed
but she showed up each day
for her charity luncheon
consumed in silent shabby elegance
She would write things
in her notebook
covered with Vincent’s
Starry Night
She would smile her goodbyes
in silence
this once tall, proud woman
Only the cornflower blue eyes spoke
Not so much of sadness
but a kind of resignation
and acceptance of what was, what is
a hint of mirth in the corners of her mouth
And she died alone
at her kitchen table
her head resting on
Vincent’s Starry Night
Dorothy
alone in her
fifth floor walk-up
Perhaps closer to Starry Night
than she had ever dreamed.
-0-
You stopped me in my tracks with this one. Beautifully written x
Aw, thank you so much for the read and lovely comment
)
I love this poem. It is a tribute to all those terribly lonely people whom we miss reaching out to. Jackie, you reached out.
Thank you, Jyoti
Wish I had reached out a little more….
Jackie, that’s so moving and sad. I can imagine this happening in every large city in the world. It made me feel like I wished I could have been there to help!
Thanks, Monty! That’s exactly how I felt when I heard of Dorothy’s passing. Why wasn’t I there…why didn’t I reach out just a little more…..Grateful for your read and comment
)
On the surface this seems sad. But I could see it as being a tribute to someone who had little by appearances, but who may have had a rich inner life, a kind of serenity. Memories, insights, those kind of things we can’t know from the outside – the slight smile, the Van Gogh notebook. I do wonder what was in there.
Very nice.
Thanks for this, Jackie
O, you are soooo right! How sensitive of you to see that! I think Dorothy was alienated and lonely, but somehow she seemed to understand and accept. And yes, I would love to know what was in that Starry Night notebook. Thanks much for your read and thoughtful comment, John
)
Great, finely written portrait. The ending is a great payoff. Thanks.
Ah, thanks so much for your read and lovely comment. The lady did touch me.
Ah, this is very touching….I love how you have her with her head on Vincent’s Starry Night….with the stars at the end…very moving, Jackie… sad to die alone, somehow….
Thanks so much, Louise, for the read and sensitive comment…:)
great capture of her…i know many just like her…alone…and love that she writes in that notebook as it probably makes her feel as if someone is listening…sad but…
Hey, Bri! World is full of people like this. I think this lady somehow came to terms with her plight. I hope so. Thanks so much for the read and comment
The Starry Night was closer to Vincent than he thought also–in the end, we’re all alone, our lives are our story, our story our art, and you express all this and so much more in your narrative here. Good stuff.
Yes, the brilliant madness seen in “Starry Night” was certainly close to Vincent…and of course, in the end we are all alone in death travail…but Dorothy was also so alone in life…and yet I think in a way, made her peace with that. At least, I would like to think so. Thank you for the read and comment, Hedge
)
This is rich! I love the way you introduce her and how you take her out as well. She seems so real…is or, was she?
Oh, Dorothy was very real. One of so many women and men seen in this city, alone, courageous, struggling…with certainly not enough care. I’m only sorry that I didn’t reach out a little more to her. Thank you very much for the read and thoughtful comment, Kellie
Thank you for sharing so many amazing stories with us. Always a pleasure reading you. Maybe Dorothy left something for you…inside.
O, you are such a dear for saying that! I’m sure Dorothy did not leave anything specific for me…we hardly knew one another…Just a nod, hello, and goodbye…but I did observe her for a long period of time. Thanks again, Kellie, for your thoughtfulness and encouragement:))
Lovely poetic narrative of a mysterious lady, Jacquie ~ I think I agree with John Ross Barnes … the clues are in your lines:
‘Not so much of sadness
but a kind of resignation
and acceptance of what was, what is
a hint of mirth in the corners of her mouth’
Yet, as everyone has mentioned, there is a huge sadness about someone dying alone … I hope that Dorothy had spiritual company with her when she passed away ~ I suspect that she may
I think you just about said it all here, Peter…Dorothy seemed to have come to terms with her lonliness…and yes, there is sadness in dying alone…but then, finally, we are alone…and I suspect this lady, in her own way, had some spiritual contact . I would like to think that. Thanks much for your words here, mate
“consumed in silent shabby elegance” – that’s nice writing right there.
“Only the cornflower blue eyes spoke” – as is that.
And the closing lines are very powerful.
An excellent write.
That was a thorough and thoughtful read, and I thank you so much for your words!
I can’t help wishing she had those red shoes. The title of the blog and the poem made me go there.
Oh, THAT Dorothy! This is a unique take! I can see that.
) thanks for the read and comment, Colleen:))
A very powerful and moving poem and tribute to an obviously very courageous woman. Makes me wish I had known her and yes, unfortunately there are many in her situation, especially in the cities but in truth everywhere. Love the way your poem ends as well.
Thank you so much, Daphne. Glad you connected…and always appreciate your visits and comments
)
wow..sad and beautiful!
Thank you so much for your read and comment!
Great characterization …. Impressive… and I’m so glad I get to meet her here with your words.
Glad we both met her! Thanks so much for the read and comment!
Beautiful capture here. Life is so short, art is longer, but somethings like Vincent’s starry sky and Dorothy in her many incarnations are infinite and surely must stretch across the universe. Well written and heartfelt.
What a lovely comment…poetic itself! Thanks so much Gay
)
heart breaking write with such a beautiful message of feminine strength and fortitude..lovely my friend! ~ Rose
She was strong, Dorothy was! Thanks so much Rose, for the read and comment! {{hugs}}
Oh this brought tears to me eyes – may Dorothy live forever in our memories – this is such a beautifully wrought portrait – Phew
Aw, that’s so sweet, M,…to think that you don’t even know Dorothy, and can be touched this way. Thank you so very much for your lovely comment!
This is an exceptionally beautiful poem, Jackie. Loved it a lot!
Thanks so much, Q, for your lovely comment!
Well Jackie, what can I say? Speechless. Beautifully written, darling! I love it! ♥
Brad, thank you so much for your lovely words!
)
Break my heart! You have presented me one of my biggest fears in a most poetic fashion. I complain so much about NOT having alone time, I fear how karma may choose to deliver. This is brutal reality for so many…and a reflection of our times that we can let the rich wisdom that comes with having lived a full life be so very disrespected.
Tash, I’m your twin here. You put this so well. I think it’s almost everybody’s fear, rich or poor in goods, relationships. We crave our alone time, yet dread alienation… Not only that, the subtle and sometimes not so subtle disrespect and misunderstanding about aging creeps into our minds, skewing our values. Well said. Thank you much, Tash!
)
oh heck…wonderful story telling jackie…makes me sad that she died alone at her kitchen table…but then with her head on starry night…maybe she wanted it that way..
That notebook seemed to be always with Dorothy..so that she died with her weary head on Vincent’s Starry Night…causes me to think…this is the way, perhaps, she wanted to go, yes. Thanks for your read and comment, Claudia. Always appreciated
)
Excellent portrait and poem of a woman unbowed by life. You have seen into her soul and in doing shared a wonderful reality with us. This is so lovely, so caring and serene in its delineation of her as a person. Certainly we cannot ever hope to capture the whole of a person, but we might a great spirit in words. You’ve done that here. Wonderful work.
Hi, Chazz! Your words are so meaningful to me here..I feel that I have done my job and at least given Dorothy the due she is owed as a human being. Thank you ever so much for the recognition of Dorothy and for my attempts here. Your critique honors and encourages. Most grateful .
interesting you should write this. today, i went to some assisted living homes to find out about them for my mom who lives on the 6th floor. but she doesn’t use a walker, and she doesn’t have a nice notebook to write things. she writes things on all kinds of scrap paper. but this still reminded me of her.
Ah…I can see that…The difference is, tho, that your mom has you to look after her…how lucky she is! Thanks, Tammy, for the read. Hope you find a comfortable, welcoming place for mom.
)
I don’t look after her. She’s in NYC and I’m 90 miles NE of LA. I think she should come out to an assisted living here so at least I can visit her.
Why would she not do that? I certainly agree with you. Hope she does!
Desperately sad; it reminded me a little of Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles. The closure gave some sense of grace in her lonely passing
Glad you saw that sense of grace at the end, Luke. The lady certainly seemed to live with grace, despite her dire situation. Thanks very much for the read and comment!
stunningly beautiful Jackie as ever about this dear lady Dorothy – she held herself with great bearing – loved that she was holding Vincent’s Starry Nights – Just gazed at that across the room, I have a copy framed – sure she was enveloped and blanketed in a twinkling of starlight – just lovely – hugs you my lovely friend – Lib
So delighted with your comment, Lib…and even more delighted to have you back in the loop…so to speak. Thank you so much for your read and comment of “For Dorothy”…stay healthy, you hear? Hugs to you
))
Nice poem J, heart-felt.
Glad you like it, Steve. Thanks for stopping by
)