New Year’s Eve, and a wave of grief
carries me back in time,
back to the days when the air was sweet
and the fruit was on the vine.
The skies were blue; the skies were gray,
but what I loved was mine,
back in the days when the air was sweet
and the fruit was on the vine.
I live in a place where the sun shines bright,
and the mountains meet up with the sea;
but it hurts my heart to have you gone,
and I wish you were still here with me.
I thought the holidays would be
a time of grief and misery,
a stark reminder of our loss,
a multiplying of the cost.
I’m hungry for the sight of you;
the shades, both dark and light of you.
The way you held yourself, your smile
(gone missing for too long a while).
I miss you in this world. You’re gone
before my heart was ready.
(Though readiness was not on the horizon.)
The boy in you lives on in me.
I hold close every memory
of soft blue eyes and thoughtful gaze
and all your cute, endearing ways.
Sometimes, my brain works overtime,
hell-bent to redesign the past.
What if… If only… Why… Why not…
a litany of grief miscast.
What do others see
who look at me
I am cracked pot
bird with broken wing
severed vine
unwilling shrine