"Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."
I stand amid the frozen rows,
And think of long-lost friends;
Where stones line up just like these trees
And sorrow never ends
I stand amid the winter gloom,
A hush is on the clearing,
I guess that I could join them all,
But I’m not volunteering
I knew them when
The fields were gold,
And hours filled
With guiltlessness
I knew them on
Their wedding day:
In youth, with all
Its weightlessness —
I knew them in
The times before:
The sunset walks,
And reveries —
I knew them when
There was a them,
And more than tears
And memories
The winter stars came out that night
To smile on us, and sing —
We watched our breath in clouds like smoke,
Our faces coloring —
We sang our carols in the snow,
And glided towards the dawn,
December in our hearts, we watched
Until the stars were gone.
We went back with our families,
Each one to different lives;
That village now, a different place.
But this one thing survives —
A memory like yesterday,
And I can guarantee it:
The winter stars came out that night
And we were there
To see it
I saw three tulips in a row
As if in mimicry of rows of stone;
They stood a flimsy guard upon the way
That I have walked today,
And walked alone —
So recently, just shaking hands,
Before you left to come out here to sleep;
And now these silent guards keep watch
Of one lone new dug swatch
Where you’ve your keep —
Life tears at us, and rips us, to
The core of what we’ve been and are;
And friends just float away like
Lost balloons
The spring is new mown in the grass,
And what was near now seems so far,
The clouds, they stack, for
Gathering monsoons
A glance: three tulips in a row,
Three brothers duty-borne and newly free:
So much that once seemed far is near,
Like history – or destiny –
And my despairing wish
You still
Were here
I found myself missing the man today, because
Every once in a while, I forget he died.
If that sounds crazy to you, don’t worry,
One day you’ll understand.
Part of us never leaves the denial stage:
About grief, or anything else.
That’s part of what fiction is all about:
Saying “no” to reality, with gusto.
I remember once, going to his house
While he was grilling and telling stories.
His steaks weren’t great, but his stories
Were always sensational,
And always emotional.
I found myself missing the man today, because
Life is a very long canyon, and love
Never stops echoing in it.
The city shapes make up your world
The way that country roads do mine;
But we can brush together ‘neath
The common stars that peek and shine
At two like us, so far away;
So different in our ways and miens —
With you, among cement and kale,
And me amid dirt roads, and
Collard greens
the lightest hand across your back,
or held within a deep embrace;
if i could join you in this grief,
i’d cross the coldest depths of any space
i know the light and dark are mixed,
our longest times are still so brief;
and though my love is poor, at best,
i’ll give you all i have to help this grief
the light and dark are mixed and we
must hide our eyes as at our birth;
but let me be a shield for you
if only for a moment on this earth —
if only for a moment on
this earth
