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




and finally

with you

we rest