I wish I had more to say
about loss and grief,
that I could convince you
they didn’t suffer,
they’re in a better place
now, that they’re gone
but not forgotten.
The photographs
will never be replaced,
future plans
never made, holidays
and vacations kept
separate. The children
will never know each
other, what those late
night conversations
meant to us both,
what dreams dreamt.
We may never see
each other again.
What would it take
to move past
all this waiting,
what gesture
would release us?
I have nothing
to gift you:
no flowers, no
book or poems,
no letter scrawled
in broken script,
a tear-filled hello,
abject apologies,
a swift defense,
repentance real
or feigned. Weakness
is my greatest fault.
Consider this
a gauntlet thrown.
