I remember Chicago
Who told me the pitch of my forehead to the plane of my feet was quite perfect
I, out of all the millions
You told me, was steel more strong than the skyscrapers I surrounded myself with
I believed and became
For I trusted you, and still do -you’d seen it all, and overcame, too
You were spoiling me, delivering the morning news to my doorstep
Changing headlines to all that I needed to read, nothing less
You were educating me, either that or reprogramming my heart
Carrying its weight for free, lightening the burden of beating again
You were reminding me of me, the me I was and am and cannot never be
Speaking life into an atrophied smile, why’d you die?
A fence may draw the eye, asking, will you act as friend?
What when we keep the Others out, what will that make us then?
Can’t we, won’t we alter fate of each whole soul, alike;
A fence with strong and welcome gate, a fence not stained by white.
Grieve, good man
There is no shame
Scream if you must, or sing
I’ll hold your space from afar, when you need to step away from this spinning place
I’ll be your friend when time feels like your enemy
Mourn, my sister
As has been prescribed
Cry, though with clear, bright eyes
I’ll hold your heart, when it feels much too heavy for your wondrous frame to bear
I’ll speak the name of the sorrow the world denies you know
Joy was my best friend, ever
A passionate Southern accent
Clear blue eyes and a reliable car
It’s a compliment
The only one who came through
Who showed up
I hope her boyfriend made things right
There was nothing he was doing
More important than Joy
Joy told me the best joke
An immature, juvenile joke
The kind you still giggle about at 50
Maybe less a joke than advice
“Shave your butt and walk backwards”
It’s a compliment
That you made someone laugh
Especially at them-self
There’s not enough of us doing that
I want to laugh with Joy again
Would be Stephanie
A love I didn’t know I needed
A friend from a Friend
For, what are true friends for?
Would have gifted me
A kind word
A wise word
Both since otherwise elusive in my world
For, looking back, what did I expect?
Steph, we’d have called her,
Would be a poem -nay, is a poem
A poem and sister to a brother
A work of art with no end, they are
Both Epic story-songs
For, hear thou, their lyrical air?
Would be safe from me now
A sword of truth having pierced my soul
A prayer of forgiveness asked
Both to self and sin, I desire to die
For what, but abandonment, is there?
Would be thirty soon
A soul eternal
A girl, a woman
For, ‘tho I don’t deserve, why too am I?
I shall exhale
Pray for pouring rain as my forum
For there I will make such weeping
And I won’t want them to see
There’ll be no taste of salt
But mere ozone and clarity
Fresh, cold clarity
Hope was the first One
Who danced within my thoughts and
Kissed my lips this morn'
His fire warmed my bones
He gifted to me a cup
Half full and intact