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GWYNETH Kit and Carol Pollock came to Alexander in the early 1970s and settled on the Weymouth Place off the Tommy Long Road. They marched to their own drummer while creating a safe, scenic environment for their home. Their two children, Alexander natives, grew-up a part of the community. Josh, the violinist is presently studying in London, England. Gwyneth died in a tragic accident on her way to school at Washington Academy on September 4, 2002. Kit and Carol touch many lives here. Kit and Tim Sanford helped Marie and me build our house back in 1981. Kit has cared for his father-in-law for years. Carol has been an aide and a teacher at our school. Kit uses poetry as a way of describing his environment and to express his emotions. Enjoy!
Gwyneth, Age 6 One day you were being ‘difficult’ in your gentle stubborn way, & I said "You’re being contrary!" "No I’m not!" you shot back, arms akimbo — & I saw, by your slowly dawning smile you had learned that word forever.
To My Daughter, Gwyneth, Age 7 Visiting My Cabin Outside roses touch my window their insistent blushed faces remind me of when I opened my door to you — & there you were my love all dressed in red
One Month After In your beloved room — all your things arrayed as if awaiting your return — the spirit is gone. The bears look sorrowful, the bed impersonal and flat. It has become a museum, the red walls reminiscent of frescoed Roman rooms — & I sit in the middle of the floor heartbroken, grieving —
10/16/02
On Wednesday afternoon, I felt the atmosphere of this dimension inwardly assume a lovely color — as of a pattern of textured red — which joyfully I recognized as you; that you were OK, that after our many sorrow-filled days you had begun where you left off, filling our lives with your love.
My Valentine Seated at your desk in your so silent room I slide open the little gold box I made for you & see something I forgot: the tiny red card with the words: You are the jewel of my heart.
Gwyneth What parable can answer why you died? What antidote to grief? or the loneliness on us descending? Yet — it is now I find you where you always are — beside me — responding to my queries, presenting pointed resolution to our crises & simply being, in my metier of poetry, my Muse. For this, for all of this, profoundest thanks. We’ll finish with a couple of Kit’s lighter poems. Picture a common weed, the signs of an olden day’s farm and the scarecrow in your garden. We all see through different eyes.
Nemesis The chickweed stars’ unending galaxies unfold, universal in garden path & mold; indestructible of root, prodigal of seed, expeditious in drought or flood, in searing heat or cold till winter its triumphant green imprisons under ice till spring…
untitled hardwood crack of acorns falling the flare of maple over by the orchard its small tart apples the marker of old homesteads of in some former time a farm the raising of children here old road moss grown & forgotten with wagon ruts jutting into a field of daisies.
Scarecrow Dusty semblance in a field — lunatic counting corn hills.
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