She died today,
early, before I awoke,
that lady I never met,
who so consumed
the lady I do
care about.
They were friends,
that lady and my friend.
And now my lady friend
rests. She is weary,
exhausted,
physically,
mentally,
emotionally.
I will see her later today,
hold her,
hug her,
kiss her tears,
her matted hair.
Perhaps, as her
sobbing eases,
she will tell me
of the passing
earlier this cold calm
morning, while I was
home sleeping,
dreaming of some
nonsense from
my own sparse life.
That lady,
shunned by her
own brother,
discarded by
her own sister,
loved dearly
by her own lady lover,
who bears
full weight of
this loss and the
tortured agony
of her beloved’s
final days,
lies covered now
with a sheet,
at long last quiet
and unbothered,
her dog whimpering
beside the bed,
her lover sitting
numb and distraught
in a chair nearby.
While I hold her, my lady
may try to speak,
express her thoughts,
explain details of the morning.
I will listen and
try to fathom
both my lady’s
and that lady and
her lover’s pain,
offering what sympathy
I can, what sympathy
I am capable of.
But it will be
far from sufficient.
There have been no such
consequential losses
within my own life,
save the anguish of
failing relationships.
Such equivalence
is dubious.
I can only try
to imagine,
and pray that
imagining
will serve.
|
Sunday, April 16th, 2017
Casco
MI
USA
|
