In the beginning it is impossible,
the moments infused with
ache of emptiness offset by nothing but
the lost one, the lost one
at night, in morning, in every breath.
You: bright and witty–small words cannot begin to
say the story you wove–
and anger shaped of fear,
and proud and exquisite, anxious
to absorb every moment, gifted or stolen.
That you longed to be a mermaid
so swam in the ocean, all deep bronze skin,
freed hair, iridescent tail.
I remember and sight blurs with sorrow
but there is also this: I understand
how it is to forget that everything
rises from and gives off light, even darkness shines
— even a soul prey to lies, crushed, bitter–
but we must discern it without looking away.
I forgot to look, too. Through the overdose tunnel
I sped only to be stunned by illumination,
beginning to end, and the other way
was destruction, the ruin of surrender to nothing.
Asked to choose before death claimed me,
I chose love, chose light with all the risk,
everything exposed, living human with no guarantees.
I came back. Here I remain.
But you have floated out to a great, faraway sea,
a dance of brilliance flaunting, embracing the waves
as I make my way to one more shore.
I will always look for you here
in my dream explorations
in my simplest living
I am walking toward you
and into the sacred that flares
in all that remains
and is yet to come.
I see you
(for my granddaughter, who passed 4/16/2021)