(2025, June 9th)
A Delicate Image
A delicate image, floating by inside the mind. A slideshow of childhood, Somber. Solemn. The memory of my childhood, and of you, is this. Quiet, gentle and sweet. Playing underneath the pool table, swimming and flip flops and tuna for snacks. Easter. The smells of these memories are actually tangible, your house is still there, and when I stand in it, I can feel the walls just imploding in on me. The heaviness of your absence, the things that happened, It's so obvious, Everything knows you aren't there. And everything is saddened because you aren't.
The wind knows, The sun knows, the hardwood floors know. The books lining the walls, The grandfather clock chiming through my memory, every hour coming around. It chimes and you're not there. I walk down the dark wooden stairs - turn the corner leading into sunroom, light is gleaming in, intentionally and kindly.
You are not sitting there. Your laugh is not resounding off of the Walls. And my chest is empty. Its been 9 months. The little girl who played with you, who laid with you. Who adored you. The gleam in her eyes, And now; I observe myself here in this moment.
I'm wearing your heavy winter coat. I'm standing tall and quiet on the hill facing the pasture, overlooking the grave, I'm intelligent and I'm all grown up now. The wind is not too harsh, the sun is not too hot, and While i stand there in Knowing silence, Some visceral ache bubbles up and out of my chest, And I weeped so genuinely into the gentle air. Nothing is really going on, there is no fuss, and everything is so still. You think, maybe it should be loud or chaotic when someone dies... It is not. You find that it's more apparent just how fucking quiet it now is. You are still there to call, of course. You're still there, tending your garden, surrrounded by honey bees that do not sting. They are your friends. Surely, you were there sleeping outside during last week's thunderstorms..... You were a Friend of nature. I am, too. I do not feel like you left. Reality is some twisting kaleidescope, and I am you. I miss you, and You know I love you.
More of a sad one today, fellows. Apologies to the chef, or something like that.
-Miss Z
Originally posted to an anonymous
shared poetry instagram
account , September 11, 2021.