Where are you now? Drifting through
another realm, a plane more suited
to who you are? Truly are, and not who you
were forced to be. The entity of thought,
of indefatigable brilliance. The one
whose darkness mingled and melded inside, yet
never dimmed the light.
Were you here at all? I see
your bows displayed on the wall,
the roof you built, covered in snow; I listen
to you sing inside my head, your song leaping synapses,
pulsing in my blood. The blood we shared
for a little while.
I put your boxing gloves on this morning,
to feel where your hands had been, knowing
the sweat still seeped inside. And then
I put them away, in the armoire storing
the blanket that still smells faintly of happier days.
Your influence is everywhere, still
helping those you loved, and those who
you never knew, but owe you a debt; because
they’re pain-free, they understand what was
formerly incomprehensible, they know how to soothe
the demons inside. Those demons you never could
vanquish completely. But you taught them.
You showed them how.
Sorrow grips me, this cold January day.
I pry its fingers loose, one at a time;
Peel them back like orange skin that leaves
bitter pith behind, the sweetness
still another layer deep.
It cannot swallow me whole.
I must allow its place, its space or
have it implode and hollow me of words, my joy
my solace, and sanity. Sanctity. Sanctuary.