Flight Home

“I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I’d take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you’d forget me.” Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

 

The doors of

Avow

gently shut behind me

and the last brush of air conditioning

formed ripples in my shirt

soft waves –

The lingering October sun dense upon my face,

fleeting hospice breeze

at my back.

 

The highway began to split-

Barely deciphering exits

as my eyes were pools

overflowing,

uncontrollable, inevitable

floods.

 

The wheels spun,

rising above the pavement,

and I felt a snap

in the deepest part of my chest.

 

I was sure

everyone on the plane

could hear the pop,

the crack.

 

My work now,

with brick and mortar, is to rebuild

that string

 

that death, nor vessel

can sever.

 

 

 

 

 

The last word

The one thing we all may wish for,

wonder

about

is that last moment

when the person we love

leaves us with that phrase

those open doors

through which

we can

move forward-

words of wisdom,

of quiet, subtle

maybe untold love.

And we

can be

free.

 

Life gives you

what it gives you-

so I pulled the comforter snug

around his shoulders

letting my words

slide gently

from my mouth

to his ears –

 

and set him free.

 

At least I will believe

that

that

was

so.