by Jennifer Schroeder |
Categories:
death, farewell, grief, loss, love,
Take my hand and tether me
my fingers outstretched,
long and unnatural,
being pulled gently, slowly,
vibrations slowing.
Don't let my fingers slip away --
do not release my weight
or am I weightless?
Which second or millisecond
do we transform from weight to ether?
The soul knows and prepares for lift
and for loft.
I see you now, expressionless,
or crying -- maybe dying,
as I drift upward, speed increasing.
I see you and you grow smaller.
I'm flying now. Can you see me?
You are a pinpoint
much like an ink mark, superfine,
on paper that once recorded
who I was and
who you will continue to be.
Tether my memory now, dear love,
I fear I am a pinpoint too.