Caitlin Miller
A favourite dress
a pattern emerges amidst
the thumbed and faded photos
in more than one you are wearing the same dress
at birthdays christenings christmasses
after and before chemotherapy appointments
final visits
the pattern is purple and pink with a blink
of aquamarine
reflecting your iris stringing your pearls
the amethyst
is vital as organs and veins against
the roses red bricks the curtains
candle light I realise I’ve learnt something
I never knew
that this must have been
one of your favourite dresses
I imagine you touching it when it was brand new
holding its waist to the light in a north London
boutique blue rain smearing the window
you wore it until the end
your valiant heart warming the
soft shield of fabric
as it slipped to the floor
becoming nothing without you
the thumbed and faded photos
in more than one you are wearing the same dress
at birthdays christenings christmasses
after and before chemotherapy appointments
final visits
the pattern is purple and pink with a blink
of aquamarine
reflecting your iris stringing your pearls
the amethyst
is vital as organs and veins against
the roses red bricks the curtains
candle light I realise I’ve learnt something
I never knew
that this must have been
one of your favourite dresses
I imagine you touching it when it was brand new
holding its waist to the light in a north London
boutique blue rain smearing the window
you wore it until the end
your valiant heart warming the
soft shield of fabric
as it slipped to the floor
becoming nothing without you
Commentary
Caitlin on "A favourite dress":
The inspiration behind the poem came from sifting through some old photographs. I noticed that my Grandmother (my late father’s mother) was wearing the same dress in a few of the images. This discovery led to a visceral feeling of connection to her. Although essentially static and one dimensional, the photographs felt like they had become portals of recognition. Smells, sounds, abstract and concrete images streamed into my mind. The purples and pinks of the dress felt symbolic of her defiant vitality, femininity and the resilience she exhibited throughout her battle with cancer. I was instantly moved to capture this in a poem.
Initially, I wrote the poem in the form of a much longer prose poem. However, almost immediately, I began the process of crafting it into something more delicate and nuanced. Spacing and line breaks were used to heighten lyricism and shape the poem into a visual structure, which reflects the fragmented nature of grief and nostalgic memories.
The ending seeks to evoke the rawness and heartbreak of losing a loved one who can never be replaced, but I wanted the poem to also capture the beauty of happy family occasions and of my Grandmother’s ‘valiant heart’ and warmth. Ancestors and those we have lost live on in our hearts and minds: in the memories and images we cherish. Through writing this poem I discovered that sometimes we can draw strength and comfort from remembering the details of their everyday sensual existence. In noticing or remembering specificities, such as a favourite dress.
My Grandmother emigrated to England from Ireland to work as a nurse in the NHS. Her son (my deceased father) went on to work as a doctor, for the NHS also. In light of the global pandemic I would like to dedicate this poem to her, and to all NHS ( and health workers globally) past and present.
Thank you so much to the Kissing Dynamite team for featuring my work.
The inspiration behind the poem came from sifting through some old photographs. I noticed that my Grandmother (my late father’s mother) was wearing the same dress in a few of the images. This discovery led to a visceral feeling of connection to her. Although essentially static and one dimensional, the photographs felt like they had become portals of recognition. Smells, sounds, abstract and concrete images streamed into my mind. The purples and pinks of the dress felt symbolic of her defiant vitality, femininity and the resilience she exhibited throughout her battle with cancer. I was instantly moved to capture this in a poem.
Initially, I wrote the poem in the form of a much longer prose poem. However, almost immediately, I began the process of crafting it into something more delicate and nuanced. Spacing and line breaks were used to heighten lyricism and shape the poem into a visual structure, which reflects the fragmented nature of grief and nostalgic memories.
The ending seeks to evoke the rawness and heartbreak of losing a loved one who can never be replaced, but I wanted the poem to also capture the beauty of happy family occasions and of my Grandmother’s ‘valiant heart’ and warmth. Ancestors and those we have lost live on in our hearts and minds: in the memories and images we cherish. Through writing this poem I discovered that sometimes we can draw strength and comfort from remembering the details of their everyday sensual existence. In noticing or remembering specificities, such as a favourite dress.
My Grandmother emigrated to England from Ireland to work as a nurse in the NHS. Her son (my deceased father) went on to work as a doctor, for the NHS also. In light of the global pandemic I would like to dedicate this poem to her, and to all NHS ( and health workers globally) past and present.
Thank you so much to the Kissing Dynamite team for featuring my work.
Biography
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Caitlin Miller (she/her) is a writer, editor and creative facilitator based in the UK, where she lives with her husband, dog and cat. She holds an MA in Creative Writing and is the co-editor/ founder of Irisi (irisi-magazine.org), a digital poetry, spoken word and art platform. She is currently a poetry tutor on an Arts Council England funded community arts project, which she co-founded. Previous publications include Tears in the fence, Ink Sweat & Tears, Under the Radar, Scriturra, Dust Poetry and on two coffee cup recycling bins in Oxford as part of Oxford city council’s ‘cups of inspiration’ creative project. Co-incidentally she loves both poetry and a good cup of coffee. Caitlin tweets at @_caitlinkat
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