I walk these days…
Sometimes in the local forest
On familiar trails
Reacquainting with glacial erratics,
And streams and woods,
And sounds of scrunching footsteps,
Or slop of mucky meadow…
For to regain a stability; a balance;
For to seek the succor which
Mother Nature always provided me
In gloomy days of need.
Sometimes outside around the house
Assessing winter damage
To shrubs and trees and domicile;
And replacing, repairing slowly;
And planting new color for the summer.
Sometimes inside, over and over,
In that circle between the rooms
And around the stairs,
Passing through the space
From where your spirit left;
And by the places your wheelchair went.
And tears still flow… but fewer now,
As I see you in every nook and cranny,
Standing at the sink, sitting on the deck;
Or tending to your many gardens;
The cupboard with your fancy plates,
Some yours, some your mother’s;
Your clothes so neatly hung in the closet;
Or sitting in your favorite chair.
Yes, the tears still flow… but fewer now.
Your memory will linger long, yet I bow
I breathe deeply once again;
I sigh the deep sigh of great loss,
But with beauteous remembrance and no regret.
I guilt over gladness that it’s done,
But know deep down
There’d be more sadness if it wasn’t over.
I focus less on the brave suffering,
And more on the bright lights
Of the wonderful life we had here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem