Today, Monday, is the last time – at 4:30 pm – that I’ll
Be able to say, “last week Esme was…”
My heart is a landslide of rubble, scary places, bad footing.
Now, this day, this minute a week ago I was lying next to her
I was taking her head in my hand, I was feeling her pulse
Her breath, her eyes on me. I felt her limbs be cold in an odd way.
I won’t forget that. I felt her warm belly. I felt her warm ears
And her cold nose and I thought and thought breathing with her
As I was, breathing without thinking of breath, or that thing that rhymes with it.
That point on the trajectory of each life that seeks level, that is level.
Everything else is up and down, hot and cold, short and long.
But death is a flat line. Death is a long time. Death is No More.
Today, Monday, it is 1:45pm. I didn’t know. I had no clue.
When I put her in my car she was breathing. It never occurred to me
She would stop. Or anything. Nothing much was occurring – and everything.
Halfway there I knew. I kept driving. But I knew.
And didn’t wouldn’t couldn’t know – no.
A week ago right now I had no clue. What a blessing.
Her life was a blessing. She blessed me. Her every move
Her looks – they were “come hither” and I did
I can’t bear to put a period with these sentences
Time will tell
Time is telling me
This is Monday, it is almost 2
I still have 2 ½ hours left
And I don’t even know it
I was so engulfed in your death
So overcome with it – the grief, the sudden
Emptiness, goneness, I forgot to look
Through your eyes at the love
You always showed me, shared with me
I forgot to feel your heart, the expansiveness, the joy
Of your surrender. I forgot to see who
Was doing all that, who was really there.
It was just us. We two. And we
Are still, as long as I remember
To look through your eyes
Feel with your heart
Breathe, embrace with your spirit.
It always was the only way to go and
It remains so.