I answer the phone..

I answer the phone and
their memories spill out of the ether.

Its not enough to grieve but to remember together
what she was like or
what he said or
how forgiveness is as hard as the long dark night.

It has all changed us at a molecular level,
all those things we did,
things required
and unrequited.
How did we know to place our hands to that work,
how did we summon the courage to lift
and carry that weight-
the burden was great but not unwelcomed.
We rose each morning and put our hearts to the test-
until, weeping with the stars,
we lay just for a moment before we were called
again and again and again.

Love sustains and
will exceeds what we know and that which we cannot comprehend.
Those things that we were called to do changed our DNA
until suffering is no longer feared
and death seems somehow diminished
in the light of a gray autumn afternoon.

moonless

April Moon 2 2014

There is an odd feeling of panic
when the thought
‘I don’t know the phase of the moon’
surfaces.

Why this sudden sensation of losing my sea legs?
The evening sky has been filled with thunder
and lightning
instead of stars
to navigate the open waters-
no moon to dream by or to blame for my sleeplessness.

Is it that I feel unmoored?

The hidden unknown moon, the sail of my spirit’s vessel,
leaving me in the doldrums of calm winds.
How can it be calm?
When days had been so hectic until,
lifeless,
she drifted away-
only the flotsam and jetsam washing to shore
leaving me castaway
and
alone
on this moonless night.

I will not say

wild roses

I will not say,
This is Tuesday, the day she left,
Two weeks ago.
I will not look at the clock and say,
She breathed her last at 10 til 9,
Two weeks ago.
No.
I will not say that.

I will not say
It was easy
Or hard
Or I was blessed
Or I sacrificed.
I will not say that.

I will not say
There were days I could have been kinder
Or sometimes the frustration chafed
And she knew.
I will not say that I would do it all over again.
No.

It was a choice
Made without enough information or
maybe not well thought out.
Seemingly,
This is how I have lived my life-
Making decisions
And just doing it.

Its just what we did,
Together,
Each day,
Each conversation, smile and gesture-
Its just what we did.

That I will say.
And remember.

bare feet on asphalt

This leave taking of life
Is not easy as it sounds.
Its not like the soul
Flits from the chest
Like some kinda airy fairy.

It more like extricating yourself
From a tangle of baling wire
And knotted hemp rope,
All scratchy and coiled,
And maybe wrapped by duct tape,
Several times around.

I remember, as a little girl, running across hot asphalt,
Soles of my bare feet summer hardened,
But the tar that oozed up from the cracks of the road
Attached itself and
I was always a little afraid that I would become
Stuck, unable to move.

Thats maybe the closest thing I can imagine-
Stuck to life,
Slowly pulling away,
Only to leave tracks of bare feet
Behind.