Numbers

If I counted the days

from my first breath

to today,

I would find I've lived

12,479 days so far. 

If I counted the days

your heart beat drummed,

I'd see that you lived

just 22,958 days in all. 

I can't imagine

that my life is more

than half over. 

Of course I never

thought yours 

would end so soon. 

The loss

is heavy on my heart,

like a 10 pound weight

hooked in 

and dragging it down

into my stomach. 

It's been 4 years,

which seems like a lot

but then I look

at how many days

you have been gone - 

1,646 days -

and it seems 

so much less

somehow. 

Now numbers

define me.

452

300

7.8

239

34

How empty

the numbers are

that matter so much.

Remembering The Fallen of 9/11

I will not forget you,

my fallen friends,

even if I didn't know you

we are still kindred.

The world stops in silence

and we silently hope you hear

the prayers we say to remember you

every single year.

We light candles

and erect monuments

in the hopes

no one will ever forget

because the sacrifice

you made that day

isn't one any of us

thought we'd have to make.

Almost 3,000 souls

were forced to say goodbye

and so many more since

without ever asking why.

It started out quiet

like any day in September,

but ended with us in mourning

as our hearts burned with the embers

of all that was lost.

We cannot cry enough

or remember you enough

or hope for enough

or love enough.

We cannot, we will not

ever forget.

As Long As My My Memory Holds

Time stopped when those planes hit
but the t.v. showed the footage over and over,
as if maybe the next time it would be different.

I picked up the phone and heard you
but I just couldn't believe it - 
things like that just didn't happen here, right?

Almost 3,000 lives lost prove me wrong.

Fingers pointed, we looked for answers
but no answers came. 
No answers will ever be enough 
for the cruel way our security blanket
was ripped from our clutched hands
like children forced to see the world
with adult eyes and broken hearts.

Where were you 
when the world changed,
when a tattered flag was raised
over the rubble of our hearts
and the fallen?

I remember that day clearly
like it was just a moment ago
and the thought of it 
fills my heart and my eyes
until all I can do is cry.

I reach out my hand to you
and hold it tightly in my own
because no matter what happened then
or what happens now,
I am proud to stand by you,
free and brave in this country I love
without fear,
without ego,
without anger,
without hate.

Terror will not win.

Unrequited

Months ago

you burned

my hopes

up in smoke

with five words

it took

eighteen years

to say,

"It's not you,
it's me,"

and one phone call,

one hour later

all is forgotten. 

I am exactly right for you,
don't you see?

Of course you do.

But it's me,
not you,
who's blinded
by a dream
of what will never be.

Because
I love you too much
to ask you
to settle
for me,
no matter how good
I would be
to
for
with
you.

Loss

You split me open

and scooped out

the good stuff - 

everything worth knowing,

everything you loved. 

Then you stuffed me

full of paper

and stitched me back up

so that no one would notice

you took more

than your cut. 

Why is all of me

still not enough? 

It's like eating

the pie filling

but never the crust.

Nothing good is left

except the crumbling flour dust. 

I fall apart

without my heart

to pump

the blood

to my hands

my head

my feet

my knees

and I can't breathe.

I am hollow

to the bone,

a shell

of the being
you used to know.

You took it all
and never thought twice
about the lack of life
you left behind.

I could name you enemy
or thief,
but what's the point?

It won't change
how easy
it was for you
to leave
or make you
come back
to the nothing
that is left of me.

Settle In

I feel the urge to take root

as if I am a potted plant

trying to bust through

the plastic or ceramic

and dig into the dirt

with my fingers and toes

until they are buried deep

in the earth. 

Each day the yearning

grows and I know

it is for the dirt here,

not back home

where all the memories

of you 

are interwoven

into the trees,

the ground, the grass

and everything

in between. 

I need space

that is my own,

where I can spread out

my roots, 

my branches

and leaves, 

where I can let loose,

where you 

aren't a part

of the landscape

except for where I
(and only I)
choose.

The space here
is an infinite breath
I inhale and never release.
It is magnanimous
and full of relief
all at once,
with the sun forever lingering
upon a horizon
too far out of reach.

My heart is as wide
as the open land
around me
and I have never felt
more free.
I stretch out my arms
like plant limbs
and wait for my roots
to set in.

Observer

You turn up at the places
I wanted to go
with you
and take pictures
with her
because she's your person
and I'm the substitute
waiting in the wings.

I'm on standby
for a flight
that always seems
one passenger too many
so I wait.

I just keep waiting
because waiting
is better than admitting
there's nothing to wait for.

You seem happy
and I'm glad
but I wish just a little
that it was me
who made you smile
like that
when the camera blinked
its shutter
over and over
at all the places
I wanted to go with you.