Bone day
That day,
when your death became reality,
touchable like my very own flesh.
That day,
the sky wept.
The sorrow of five long years,
came bursting out,
hitting me,
again and again.
What was this sorrow,
my own solitude,
my own sense of loss?
Can't avoid,
the terror,
the fear.
I embrace it,
love it,
at the peak,
of the emotion.
The day they found you,
I dressed in white,
my black tears,
rolling down,
grapes.
Until transparent.
I knew by then,
I was healed.
The movement
of denied feelings,
making me
lighter,
stronger,
brighter,
as I sang out
all your names,
in a current of sad joy.
The day they found you,
I dressed in white,
my eyes shining,
with the whole emotional scale,
my voice transforming,
from hurt to healing.
The day they found your
weathered bones.
I dressed in white,
watered my plants
of sorrow,
with my tears of joy.
