There is something wrong with the air.
It feels heavy.
It sits awkwardly in my mouth, my throat, my lungs.
I cannot breathe.

There is something wrong with the air.
It stings my eyes.
I look around frantically for a glimmer of hope or joy.
I cannot see.

There is something wrong with the air
It clogs my ears.
I listen numbly for the sound of laughter,
But hear only crying.

It isn’t the fragrance of the flowers.
It isn’t the dim light illuming the coffin.
It is the emptiness
Knowing a friend is gone.

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Yesterday, Kim and I learned that Dot Driscoll has passed away. We met Dot years ago through the Dean campaign. We worked side by side on that campaign, the Ned Lamont campaign, and numerous progressive causes. She was a member of the Darien Democratic Town Committee and a close friend.

I've been experimenting poetry again. I wrote a lot of it when I was younger and want to add it into my mix of writing here. I am torn. I don't want to sound all teenage girl emo in my posts. I want to give Dot he proper respect.

After much reflection, I have decided to post the poem here, along with these notes as a tribute to Dot. I have decided to add it not only to the Personal and Poetry sections of my site, but also to the Connecticut and the Politics sections, since, at least in my book, Dot was a very important political figure in Connecticut.

She will be sorely missed.