Home with no name

Home with no name, this charcoal deep airy lost place. Cut bonds and cords flit in the wind, a thousand tentacles. Sad hearts stand in quiet corners, lost, trembling, cold, bent, buckled, they weep – they weep – they weep.

Now, stumbled to standing, I’ll split the heavens for you, snare the brightest sun. Across the pond out of reach your heart glistens warm gold love. I am now, finally, bound by nothing but me. If I could only cleave the pond in two,

find myself lost no more.

for jch


The loss we feel when a loved one dies reminds us they are not gone. Yes, it is true, they are gone physically, but it is equally true that we would not feel their loss in the first place were they not still present, still alive and well in our hearts and souls.

I do believe this. And while there may be those who see this belief as a form of denial or avoidance, I respectfully and firmly wave off both interpretations. I know me well and I know I would not be alive today were denial or avoidance leading voices in the person that is me.

As I ponder the experience of loss, watch others go through it, absorb its penetrating realities, I am humbled and grateful that we can feel it when it happens. While not an altogether pleasant experience by any means, it does have its tender moments. There is a just and poignant intimacy in the loss experience. An intimacy we deserve when a loved one dies because it reminds us that person’s presence is still alive and well within us.

I know what I wanted to say here; although I am not sure I’ve said it very well. I went to a memorial service for my friend Frank today. I love him very much. I am quite sure his presence in my heart and soul is as forever as I am.

Dedicated to Jane Pierce