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)