A violinist to his
Fingertips ~ he
Draws me in ~
And captivates me ~
The yearning in the
Notes ~ that pour forth
From his instrument ~
Warms my chilly bones ~
For of them all it is
The violin that slays me ~
There is some haunting
Quality in its strings ~
I think that violins
Must be ~ where
The purist souls go ~
When they die ~
(Originally published June 13, 2014)
My footsteps lead me to the windswept beach, where rain pelts down from a leaden sky. When last I walked these sands you were by my side, and there was nothing I could not do or be. You were the light of my life, the warmth of my hearth and my heart. I gaze at the distant stars and wonder which one of them is you, for I know you are not really gone. Your beautiful spirit has only outgrown its earthly envelope. Oh, but I miss you. I find myself searching my memories for the exact color of your eyes, the different textures of your body, and of your breath, so warm upon my skin. There is not a moment that I don’t remember, and I’m not sure if that is a blessing or a curse.
Why, oh why, did we choose to share each other’s lives for such a brief moment in this existence? Who could have known that Death would be so envious and so cruel? Certainly not I. I believed you and I were for the ages, never to part in this life or the next, and I am shattered still, though years have passed. And time does not heal my wounds, no matter how faithfully or how often I apply it.
Time, the most unforgiving and the most elastic element of our brief sojourn in this reality we have all created. Always Yin to Yang, dark to light, good to evil. For all time the center must hold and the basic Universal laws apply. And I must go on, cowardice and unbearable pain to be hidden and endured, and choosing Death the one thing you would never do or allow of me. You always had such high expectations for me. I find myself trying still to please you and hoping somehow you are watching me and smiling. And so I find your loving hand guiding me from beyond the world that I can see. Is all as you had hoped, and does the Light blind you, or can you face it smiling, now that you and the Light are one?
Unanswered yet again, now I must go. The tide is rising and the wind plays havoc with my hair, tangling the strands so that I can barely see. I have put it off as long as I can, the going home. Because your chair will still be empty and your favorite book is still on the floor by where your feet last rested, its pages rumpled from the fall. Your lion’s heart is stilled at last, your job all done. You have moved on, as must I, but I will remember and I will abide, till I can be with you again.
(Originally published January 24, 2013)
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