December 1, 2023

Crazz Files

Exposing the Dark Truth of Our World

Poem on the Passing of My Wife

Laura Thompson, 1952-2019

by Jon Rappoport

March 21, 2019

Did a great Nothing swallow you whole, my darling?

Have you gone to ashes, buried next to the walnut tree in New Jersey, in the back yard of your family?

Is the same swelling of the legs that immobilized you creeping up my body?

I sat on our front porch smoking a cigarette looking at the wild cherry tree full of pink buds—this is your spring coming on in the hills of Carolina.

Were you a collection of elements driven by unknown forces? Have you gone back to the beginning? What beginning?

This is not my season for reassurances.

I don’t rest in full knowledge that your essence is still whole somewhere brimming.

Spring is relentless in the hills around our home—fat cardinals are building a nest near an upstairs window. Is that you orchestrating a message? I’m told I need to drink more water and stop eating salt, when all I want is salt.

I wasn’t with you at the clinic when you died. I’m told a nurse was combing your hair and singing to you when you stopped breathing, when you’d had enough suffering. You had many plans—the house is full of your things. I think a stray thought and by habit it refers to you. This is not the season for reassurances. This is not the time for a life without you. Are you in some cottage by the sea waiting for us?

In a week or so our wild cherry tree will be spilling with white flowers from every branch. Will you be there? For me, yes. Our house is surrounded by high deep forest. Hundreds of trees. As a boy, trees were my first love. You are my second—and much greater love. My darling.

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.


2 thoughts on “Poem on the Passing of My Wife

  1. I don’t know what to say, only that it hurts & you have no control over your tear ducts & after a while no one gets why you are still so efficiently in the throws of grief & it becomes your secret & you can’t look at photos of them & it goes on & on, this hidden grief that has you in it’s power.
    It’s like you are crying their tears of missing being alive.

    1. They rang & asked if I wanted grief counseling.
      They are very kind & considerate.
      I said “no thank you & thank you for asking.”
      I had nothing left of him, this son of mine, except a box of ashes, photos, funny notes & cards that he wrote to me, my memories & the pain of losing him.
      I had so little, I was not going to share the tiniest bit of the little I had left with anyone.

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