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August 27, 2008
She misses him
There is the day, sun glorious, air clear, i see people walking by, life goes on.......................and this crystal clear understanding that it is all a gift we are not entitled to. What gets us here is the same love that makes the moon
orbit the earth and the earth so attracted to the sun. in its rotations. we are not to know the origins of such tender
mercies, such kind notions, such majestic laws in their beginnings or end, We are here to live.
I miss him, not as obviously as she does. But I do. Losing him in the long days of a summer, has left us with a more distant sun, shorter days, and the cold promise of a fall. It is easier to understand though the loss of light, the bare trees and the dried leaves wondering in the air, how Autumn would morn the loss of the summer and how the cold depth of winter would shelter us to a closer gathering, sitting side by side in the comfort of each others company
thinking, and talking of the summer that left us and the spring that would await us another celebration of life.
There is a picture of her holding him around his shoulders while he kisses her hand. She has placed it in the dinning room, across from the framed picture of our wedding. She has left a candle in front of it. She lites the candle every morning as she say hello to him and she blows it out every night as she says good night and once in a while I catch her tracing his face with her finger, missing him.
Isn't there a certain hope in the word "Missing" . By saying it aren't you extending a certain hope of seeing him again, and yet in the pit of your stomach there is a pain of realisation that sour sensation running up inside you claiming all the hope and closing the door. " How could I bare never seeing him again" ? she cries, " how could that be " ? she asks. I have no answer, so I hold her closer thinking of words.
Life is a gift
Posted by Idinraha at 10:46 AM | Comments (0)
August 05, 2008
the clouds fled the sky
The clouds fled the sky, fleeting the blue
the bird flew to the open rushing up
we stand quiet, looking up, we stand in owe
of his flight as it disappears far, far
we are still standing, waiting
we remember the bird
so clear in our eyes,
so we wait
Posted by Idinraha at 05:46 PM | Comments (0)