Tagged: passing

in the shadows, we

all day, i keep

all day, i keep
forgetting that you
left us this morning,
and even now, when
i quiet my heart to
take in the news, i
hear old news, when
you called eight years
ago to say that he’s
gone, and do not be
sad, it was so peaceful,
you were reading to him
as he sat in his favorite
chair, and then
you were reading.
tonight, i am not ready
for the details just yet.
there are no brave
messengers. you are
gone, but not yet gone

on the twelfth day of

on the twelfth day of
the twelfth month in the
twelfth year, history
takes a long-awaited
. even stories
like ours need to
refresh their pages

opening, closing,

since memories are

since memories are
formed, then rebuilt
each time
they are
accessed, may next
year be easier, on the
anniversary of your
death, may our
neurons stop
passing along this
unbearable sadness

at each crossing, we


massaging your feet while reading
the program on your grandma’s
passing, i wonder if we are stitches
that have broken away from her
quilter’s prayer. maybe if there
were a map that could
collect the height of our
happiness and the depth
of our sorrow, it could also
vouch for the measure of our
spirits, the kindness
of our gestures,
verify that we are
unbroken, yet unfinished,
allowing us to discover
above her quilted
waters, like children
finally learning to swim