Reconciliation
A bath of sound, clanging, echoing,
patinated green whispering
of loss and letting go.
To claim what was once.
To bathe in patchwork
light of verdant hills
and laughter, lively voices,
messy rooms.
To recall that this once was.
Sliding slowly into oblivion,
like the last brown leaf
falling slowly, gracefully
onto frozen snow -
a freedom in the unnoticing.
I welcome this silence,
invite her in to tea
to chat with me a while
and exchange tales,
shuddering, rejoicing, laughing, mourning
we sit at the table
playing through memory
like old 45s, a one-song
snapshot of life.
Ignoring the faded edges,
the muted colors,
celebrating that girl.
Where is she now?
Buried in layers of gritty sand
and performative peony faced
pleasantries.
She waits,
trapped in a room of her own,
slowly peeling back
hideous wallpaper -
canary, of course,
Waiting for someone to tell
her it’s safe to come out now.
I will guide her with my slowing pace,
not shuffling yet,
through rickety furniture,
blind as we both are,
through the front door
to the sunlit frozen ground,
peppered with prints,
shadows reaching away
from the path of the day.
I will hold her hand
as we shiver and squint
from the sun’s harsh glare
to find our reflection
in a nearby creek
We will let the others go,
wishing them well,
lipsticked, underfed, and numbed,
they walk away, ashamed.
She whispers to me, let us go.
And now there will be time.
For a thousand small joys,
each moment a triumph.
We torch the mask,
reaching, fists clinched,
up through cracked ground,
into tomorrow.