33

I wonder how you would have been

At 33.

Would we have had presents,

Peach pie,

Banners scribbled with so much love

And so little precision,

A day off to stretch in the sunshine,

Simple joys,

Soothing rhythms of ordinary days?

Instead there are strangers who know your name.

Judges who quote your life.

Children who don’t remember what they miss.

Friends whose hearts carry you.

And I.

I wander at times

Through dark rooms.

I’m glad I never had to see

The goodness in you

Disappear.

I’m glad you left when you were

Untouched.

Kind.

Smooth as a mirror glass pool. 

I said to you, after you were gone,

My last words to your

Absent face,

“Rest now. Please. Just rest.”

I know that you listened.

The bitterness has eased,

My anger has quieted,

But oh the loss of you,

The loss of you,

Is sometimes so piercing

And terrible

And shockingly cold.

Strange how the warmth of tears urges me

Back to life.

And the taste of them, salty,

Reminds me to live.