Reflections from Middle Age

I have no words, still after all this time no words

As though your death has rendered me speechless

The blank paper beseeches me to remember you

But my thoughts are like paper confetti

Blown away in an sudden breeze.

How do I put in simple phrases

The complex man you once were

How do I find, in simple places

An expression that captures all I learned

The complex contorted relationship

That strangled, strung out

Display of love and affection

Of esteem and goodwill

Of tired intervention

And fear of never being able to fulfil

The potential you saw in me

The love you promised me

The fear you instilled in me

Through love

With love

And hope

And fear

And your own insecurities

And my own

My own

Which drown me, often.

I travel thousands of miles

In planes and trains and automobiles

To your house where I hope to feel

Something real

Something of you

Your vibrant personality

To hear a voice yelling for tea

Or saying, once again,  I love you

And to hear, something more

Just once

An amendment to the usual call

I love you regardless of what you do

Of who you are

Of what you think

I love you as you are

Every blemish, every chink

But it is silent now

So silent

And the chance to check

To ask

Is gone.

The background has closed in

And there is not even a physical space

Where you used to be

Just an emotional scar

That runs through me

And it is hard to remember the timbre of your voice at all

Unexpectedly

Playing scrabble, my eyes alight on the letter P

All pock-marked white from a run in with your dog, long before me

And suddenly I hear you loud and clear, your spirit fires nearby

A momentary sharp recall before the veil of night whisks you away once more