It arrives again. An anniversary and a season, all at once, you are a jumble of gratitude and eerie nostalgia. This was the last day I rode the subway. This was the last time I saw you. This was our last drink in a bar. We didn't know. We didn't know.
But the crocuses still spring forth from the earth, the snowdrops and daffodils and blissful ignorance bathe in sunlight, this morning I ran across the Williamsburg Bridge and did you know there was such a thing as joy, because I think I had forgotten. I didn't know.
Everything is still questions, but they look smaller now, lighter, I remember how to make my fist into an open hand, remember how to gently hold that which whimpers in my chest. Everything is still unanswered but I am starting to formulate my response, I believe this pen can carry you across the Great Divide, the greatest gift we can be given is hope.
I am still a run-on sentence but don't you see, that is exactly the thing. I was quiet, and still,
and now I am no more.
No comments:
Post a Comment