for david – 22 july 2011

by charlotte

 

there is so much space now

where you were

 

and though I seem to see you everywhere

a straw hat waiting by the door

blue jeans and a white shirt out the corner of my eye

a black backpack stuffed with letters to be mailed

you are gone

 

there is a silence that fills this land

a waiting

as though you should return

the maroon Toyota Tundra winding up the dusty road

or a sweat-glistened horse breathlessly

delivering you to the front door

 

those days are closed

iron door without a hinge

my mind strains against

the permanence

of your impermanence

 

forever the smell of rosemary

elicits roasting chicken

the ease with which you conduct

symphonies of meals

effortless grace

of the primordial magician

 

you dance

sinews swaying

to the rhythms of some sweet beat

the chodpa’s chant

or perhaps, when no one was looking,

to the delicate whisper of flowers

who sang your praises in hues of gold and vibrant pink

 

even now

you walk this land

an ancestor

your bones the twisted arms of the hardy scrub oak

your sweat the cool exhale of rocks

your heart the pulsing throb of life that will not stop

 

 

and though we may look

we will not find you

and though we may not find you

you are there

 

until we are left

speechless in our searching

stopped by the determinacy of what is no longer

in the simple presence

of space

that is

always

already

 

and finally

with you

we rest