POEM - Our Skyless Year

Some people hope for longer lives,

or another lifetime;

such people do so because they don’t

demand enough of their today

But you and I found out the hard way

that tomorrow cannot be

depended upon

We have now lived that other life,

and know well to take care

with what we wish for

  

We went from watching fireworks

as we made intentional love

to choking on emotional ash

beneath a blindingly-black hole

We took a trip around the sun

in which we could but feel

the seasons shifting;

uncertain of the hour,

and unclear if this was the end

The only familiarity left to me

was holding your hand

  

“This could be goodbye.”

A steady drum in my head

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

The words I heard

while forever checking that you

were still breathing

“It doesn’t have to be what it was.”

A necessary reminder for us,

now that the worst is over

“Love doesn’t die, but we will.”

The staunch fact

  

You once talked about

a certain picture from our wedding day

being what you’d turn to

(for proof of a well-lived life)

when we were too old

to still remember it clearly;

when rocking on a porch became

the highlight of our daylight hours

But, on the other side of our skyless year,

I find that we are old ahead of age;

worn in the new shoes we wear

So maybe I should get busy building

those rocking chairs

  

For we hit that robbing wall

of dark water as one

We held our breath as it fed

on our remaining complacence

And now that it’s spit us back out

in the near-alien space

where it initially found us,

I feel more ready than ever

to remain by your side