In Memoriam Kevin Michael Davis
Doors at Chaco Canyon photograph by Kevin Davis (2/16/1982 – 7/21/2010)
“The Framing” a poem by Richard Brenneman
This is the anniversary of our son’s death in Poughkeepsie, New York from cancer ten years ago. This is always a sad day for Ethel, I, and our daughters, Sonja Bingen and Mary Wood, every year. This blog was started in honor of Kevin, who was a wonderful web designer, photographer, artist, and poet. This year we are publishing one of Kevin’s most iconic photographs, a doorway found at the Chaco Canyon ruins in New Mexico, and Richard Brenneman’s wonderful poem about the photograph, remembering someone who was deeply, deeply loved.
THE FRAMING
by Richard Brenneman
Ekaphrastic poem celebrating the Kevin Davis photograph, “Doors at Chaco Canyon”
I Picture this -- seen through the lens of a camera; eye sighting perfectly this line of sight, image remaining after. The photographer has entered into this, his picture. A framing frames the ancient remains, frame within frame like stone ghosts from the living to the not living. II During the day, the doors, like sideways viewed Chinese boxes, point the way to the sky, or a blank wall where the lords of death (or alternatively, the lords of life) are lodged beyond, whether in kiva, hogan, teepee, pyramid -- the mountain of gods. III At night invisible, you can barely see the framed gates. Above, the moonlight, a few stars shine bright: Polaris, Sirius, Aldebaran. The gods of old-time have come for you -- you who framed this image. Time into framing, gate, window, doorway -- starlight seeps out light from unseen life in sunrise or twilight, you who sighted this in your view finder. IV If we look at this image askew, we can almost see you as shadow, invisible among the dust motes, the whirling dervishes slipping through the frame of time, the ancient gateways to join the lords of life, of death to ascend timeless, bodiless to the stars, to become framed as infinite starshine.
fourwindowspress 
My heart cries for you and Ethel and your daughters…my soul feels for each of you…although, what I say can never be enough.
Linda
Ah, you are a great person from country that I love. Thank you, Linda.
Hugs to you and Ethel.
Doorways into the light is such an appropriate image…
This really is a photo with a metaphor, isn’t it Bruce?
It certainly is Tom – and full of hope,, and dare I say it, excitement and wonder!
I’ve always loved this photo Tom and Ethel – it simply resonates with hints of profundity. Certainly a wonderful gift that your son has bestowed upon us all. So this is the tenth anniversary of his death? How utterly sad you must all feel. I am so glad that he has left a body of work that is so memorable and moving. With deep sympathy, John
Ten years is a blink of an eye when it comes to grieving for a lost child. My continuing sympathy to you all.
This is a wonderful tribute to your son – the amazing photo and the wonderful poem. Thank you for sharing with us.
THE CRUELLEST MONTH
On the twenty-first
Ten years ago
Your son
Claimed this annual
Memorial.
On the twenty-fifth
Two years ago
My wife
Stepped up
To take her own place.
Shoulder to shoulder they,
Shoulder to shoulder we.
Another burden,
Beacon, memorial.
Nothing but memory
Stands the test of time.
And some day
One day,
One fatal day
Not even that.
24.7.20
May the winds of the universe blow over us, Ben Naga.
May the songs of remembering and forgetting and becoming
mix in with our consciousness
and make us aware of those who have gone before
who once made us whole.
Just so, Tom, just so.
Reblogged this on Ben Naga and commented:
If I may?
Yes you may. Love to you, always as we we travel shoulder to shoulder. Love Ethel
Bless you, Ethel.
Wonderful poem.
Sending blessings.
Love to you, Sayword. Ethel