It Cannot Be So

Lori McCray
2 min readJan 3, 2022

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Bella and her last Bubba, May, 2018. Photo by Lori B. McCray

Reading about incantatory repetition, I found myself thinking, ‘It cannot be so. It cannot be so. No, it cannot be so.’ William, dead, seemed impossible. I must have thought he could live forever. I thought he might live on in his 9 children, and when the last one disappeared, I went very quiet. No wailing, no ‘It cannot be so’. Nine dead babies and William dead as well and Bella alone and bereft and what could I give her, even if she understood my words?

When my mother died, I didn’t believe it. She told me on the phone she was coming home to visit me. Why would she lie? I went very quiet when I saw her lying there. There was no wailing and weeping. Alone and bereft, no one had any words to give me. I learned to go on without them.

One by one, I’ve gathered my scattered words and pressed them into service. There are places the once bereft can enter, which others shy away from. They lay their words down gently, like a silky swan, a fluffy bunny, a tender, fragrant flower, and bring you comfort and a cup of tea. And when they have to go, they leave a light on.

LBM 1/1/2020

Bella and brood, 9 (some hiding), William outdid himself, most ever, 6.

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Lori McCray
Lori McCray

Written by Lori McCray

Photographer, Poet, Musician, Mother, Mystic, Gardener, friend of wild creatures, swan whisperer. Find me on Flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/wingthing/

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