You still live on.
Not in some celestial hall,
Separate from those you left behind,
And watching them go about their lives.
No, you remain present
In the stories we tell of you,
Among those who knew and loved you.
And you will reach strangers even yet,
As these are shared,
And people see your name to ask,
Who was this?
While we are here to remember and tell
And all those who come after us who have heard,
You will live.
I see you now,
Your face turned away from me
And hidden in shadow.
You will be everywhere
As I move through this changed life,
The one I used to live with you.
The birds you rescued have fledged and flown the nest.
I am slowly getting the house organized.
When I go out, people ask where you’ve been.
Sometimes I still can’t bring myself to answer.
This grief is yet very raw.
I will survive, but I miss you so.
Once again I find myself
A renitent gadfly, with a rebarbative voice.
Familiar but tiresome,
And I am loath to continue this charade.
I am no Ariadne in these times.
Indeed, should I be compared to anyone,
Give me the name of Cassandra.
I discomfit and discomfort
While being seen as caviling.
Let me go my solitary way.
I’ll soon be crying out for Charon anyway.
Do I sit here in quietness and contemplation?
I can do that, yes.
But right now I want to MOVE!
I hear the music and the beat,
And my body says dance, dance, dance
While you’ve got this chance, chance, chance.
And I feel the joy and the laughter
All around me in the songs
Healing all the wrongs
(Not just mine but the world’s)
I want to explode with wonder.
Steam rises from the tea.
Consider these things.
Every being that had contact with this tea,
Be it an insect, animal or person,
Was just like me:
Each wished to experience happiness
And to avoid the pain of suffering.
So as I drink this tea,
A great happiness in itself,
Let me pause and wish for all of those:
May you be happy.
May you be peaceful.
May you be free from fear, judgment or ill will.
May you grow in compassion, wisdom, and love.
Steam rises from the tea.
Consider these things.
The tea did not brew itself.
The tea did not magically appear in the cup.
The tea will not float on the air to be sipped.
I have to act for these to happen.
Let me do so in a mindful manner.
That I might enter fully this moment in time.
How did I number my days and nights this year past?
They sometimes seem to stretch so agonizingly into forever
Yet indeed they flee so razor-sharp fast.
I have found myself lost in memories , immersed in songs,
Even given to dancing, and tried to help right some wrongs.
Like all , I’m weighed in the balance, the scales will be set.
I’ll not ask nor expect mercy. Just Accept what I get.
This is the hard time.
The time when I think about my friends.
Some drink, smoke or do other more questionable things.
I don’t have any such refuge.
I face this onslaught by holding on as I can
(By letting go of holding on).
I pace the floors, consider making a sound but no,
And breathe into the pain.
Step; inhale; step; exhale….
I remind myself when I pause
The worst that could happen would be the best outcome.
Eventually, thankfully, this WILL end.
One way or another. Nothing lasts forever.
Walk; breathe; walk; breathe.
This grief twists around me,
A primordial root connected to the fundamental wailing
Pulled from the the soul of the earth.
My tears are the salt of the sea and the stream of the rain;
They are water itself and life-
Bitter and burning and flow.
I scream so loud it swallows the universe.
My laments echo down time’s corridors
Like fell black-winged horses running a doomed apocalyptic race.
My words are forever etched on the very pillars of creation itself.
I am done.
There is no magic here.
No-one will come to save you
With a wave of their wand
Or with fiery breath and beating wings.
Not in this poem.
You’ll have to save yourself,
And however you do that is up to you.
I write these days of desiccation and dearth,
With arid phrase and acrid wit.
Seek no comfort;
I have none to offer.
Other than: I am here.
