In my softness I hold this gift, for you.
A small slice of home,
and a tiny sun to shine
only on you, sweet friend.
This rain will pass,
it will pass on through the air.
And in your eyes I will find
the joy
lingering,
calling from the horizon of you.
And in my eyes, the shine of knowing.
Knowing that rain built the very rainbow
that now shields you, for life.
Knowing you always were okay.
Every moment.
Safe.
Loved.
And on your way.
But did they give you a box of darkness?
Or was the darkness
already inside of you.
Waiting for someone to press:
open.
And release.
I have craved your whispering goodness.
I have known your shadows deep.
And here we sing
to a tender memory
of scattered and tumbling
diamond dust.
A silver breath
of life
incomplete.
I am here in the quiet, knowing I am home.
I am the same, in this place, as the windy trees
and the sunset that melts across the bay.
This quiet.
It is the porcelain wail of a newborn child, it is the aching
of a freshly broken heart.
I know it well.
I know this place of quiet so well.
Sleepy heart,
whisper to me
of laughter and love;
comfort trickling down
the mountain of mysterious
life.
Shall I bring the sunrise?
Shall I wipe away these tears
with the sweet knowing
of tomorrows smile?
The echo of two hearts
drifting down the hall,
and all the darling days
we skipped arm in arm,
like children;
no more.
All the beauty of our yesterday,
I remember you.
Fondly,
I remember the darling days,
and I smile
as I crack down the middle
again.
Another fork in the road.
Another road of destiny
to travel.
Without you.
There must have been a fire like this before.
The last fire…
she couldn’t remember it,
couldn’t remember a burn
on each and every side before.
Then again
she had a habit of forgetting the fire
like all the other humans did.
Of hiding it under rocks
and mud
and other things.
Like boyfriends,
then husbands,
then wine.
Hiding the flames worked for a while.
Hiding the flames had always worked.
For a while.
brooke-cutler.com 