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How has it come to pass
over the long years
that what seemed at the moment
most precious
to be of the essence of my life
often
suddenly
slipped away
as would a car over a bridge
into the dark waters
of a thinly frozen river.
on a snowy night?
How has it come to pass
over too many years
that those who are always the residents of my soul
and the center of my life
repeatedly
unyieldingly
gnaw at my heart
like a jackhammer
in dimly lighted caverns
exposing veins of coveted metal?
Books
dream journals
volumes of research notes
mementos half century old
photos and gifts
reminders of the six angels
who chose to grace me
with fatherhood
back then
in the time before the loss
where are they now?
Days anticipated
are a rarity
no sunrise bright enough
no sky sufficiently vaulted
no mountain peak
no soaring eagle
no bugling elk
no humming bird
no caress
nothing invites enough.
What then remains
after the cruel alarm
tears at the barely abated panic
to dissolve
the ghostly vision
of a human pendulum
at the top of the attic stairs
is but the certainty
that loss is a four-letter word
holding the precious hope
of eventual healing
and wholeness!
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