One Year

February 8th, 2022

It’s as if my thoughts are bound up by the fear of permanence
The idea that if I acknowledge the weight of today
It will sink me into a pool of brutal reality
Where the water turns to ink,
turns to sludge and before I know it
The air that I’m breathing will
morph into a textured sorrow
That resembles something like
quick sand, like a bad nightmare
I could be overcome,
overcome by every emotion that has
been woven through out each of these
365 days with out you on earth

Everyone experiences grief differently
but I believe there are some similarities
like how the phrase
“It comes in waves”
seems to ring true for anyone who
has lost someone that they love deeply

For me,
the waves are still here
Your sister said that
she lives with a lump in her throat
and that is truly what it is like
going on everyday in this place where
we can’t see you

I am torn between reflection and movement
I want to remember you,
to watch videos of you
to listen to your voice and
find photographs that I never knew existed
Want to bring up your name so often
because the truth is that the basis of my being was
built right beside you
My first encounters with joy, adventure, sadness, and concern
were experienced with you
All that which makes this life worth living
are seemingly wrapped up in stories where
you are the main character
the protagonist, the embodiment of vitality
and the ruler in which I measure nearly
every relationship

And then there is movement,
this constant need to keep on going because if
I remain in reflection or even visit it at all
there is the threat that I won’t be able
to continue on, I am working to reconcile
the presence of your spirit and the
absence of your body

The weight of today is like the
weight of the year
It is too much to hold
so I let it scatter,
diffuse into the pockets of time
where I can be still and know
that this Story is still good
It is just drastically different than the one that I wish to read,
It is desperately different than the one that I would’ve written

A year ago today,
I was looking at the ocean for the last time
that I would see it with the part of me that
you took with you in your death
Yesterday, I looked at that same ocean
eyes searching the waves with a hope of
reclaiming fullness
And a simultaneous desire to lose
the rest of myself
All that I know is that
all that is left is what has always been
The only thing worth anything
to love and to be loved
to find rest in the impossibility
The assurance that death leads to life
time and time again

The waves are still here
They are angry and crashing,
cyclical and comforting,
weeping and restoring,
Always seemingly surrendering
I will learn from them
I must learn from them

1 Comment

  1. Beautiful words. Nature is a great healer… and teacher.

    Like

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