Pressed Flowers
You
were there,
constant
and
faithful
like
Night follows Day
and
Day follows Night,
until
You
followed
the
greater light
of love
to
eternal
shimmering stars.
You
were a light
like
the coral glow
of the Sun
that pierces
the onyx veil
of the
slumbering sky,
until
You
slipped beyond
the curtain
of life and death
to sleep
in peace,
immortal.
You
were there,
holding my hand
as we traversed
the stoney path
of life,
lending an arm
as a
steady brace
against
the steep ascent
of the trail
dashed by
scattered boulders;
remnants
of life’s landslides
that would
cause some
to turn back
and give up,
until
You
de-parted
at the
Y
— at the mark,
to journey
beyond
the dust and ash
of earthen foundations
and their boundaries.
You
were there,
butting up
against
my best and worst,
like bookends
as
we balanced
the all
of our story
between one another;
between
the
Me and the You
My beginning
always
found its end
in
you
and
you
echoed
the all
of my essence,
held
within
the strength
of
your substance,
until
You
let go
and
the volumes of our life
collapsed
upon one another
and the weight
of your absence
crushed my heart
like a delicate
flower’s petals
P r E s S e D
between the
ink and words
that spoke of us;
the same inked
memories
that
p
a
r
c
h
e
d
m
y
s
o
u
l
,
e
m
p
t
i
e
d
of
every last tear;
drying me
in an eternal state
of withering away;
still present
among the living,
but
fragile
to the slightest touch,
movement,
even
to the
breath of life,
itself.
Viewing
the world,
askew,
from
blurred,
tear-filmed eyes;
like wax paper windows
holding my fragile
being
together
just as the
momentos
of funeral sprays
that smell
of
sickening, sweet
decay;
I
am caught
between
the thin wax sheets
of the
before
and
after
YOU.
Like bookends.
You
captured
every word
that I spoke,
jotting it,
eternally,
upon the pages
of your mind,
until
You
slipped
from the grasp
of life;
the quill
that wrote your story
floated, aloft,
upon
the
breath
of the Angels
as
You
found sanctuary
within
the secret place
of dwelling,
tucked against
the wings
of
The Angel of the Lord,
ETERNAL BOOK ENDS
where
the final chapter
drew to a close
and our story
found
its
end.
Now,
all that remains
of
YOU
are the
fading scents,
pictures,
objects,
and memories;
recollected
and held tightly
to avoid
the inevitable
slow-fading
as time washes
over
the rock of my heart;
a heart set firm
to hold
all of
YOU
within me
for always,
yet,
as time flows
against my will,
cascading
upon my resolve,
it wears away
the jagged and raw edges
of the grief
found
at the end
of the tale
that was
ours.
Every tear
that tumbles
across
the stone,
etched
with two dates
upon it
and
separated
by
the
- hyphen -
of your life,
softens
the memories
and smooths
the ragged,
piercing quartz
to
polished marble;
glimmering;
embodying
the
reflection
in my
eyes
of
YOU.
and the cold stone
of your tomb
holds
the end
as the
memorial stone
of my heart
holds
the beginning
of
life
without
YOU
like
MARBLE BOOKENDS
atop
the mantle
of my hearth.