A Fullness Forgotten
You wake up to her perfume on your pillow.
You fix her coffee in the morning.
Where once there was silence in the morning, you talk.
Birds sing outside, mad and happy with the sunrise.
There is less fear in the air. More joy.
The house itself is less pristine, more perfect.
There are strange things in the icebox,
and stranger things still in your heart,
a fullness forgotten, a joy worth the wait,
worth even the pain that came before,
worth the lessons learned and the scars
that cut across your soul and your brow.
You breathe in the perfume.
You pick a single dark hair, wild and long, from the pillow.
You have always believed in life after death,
but you never expected it until the last breath passed your lips,
Certainly not now, in this place of old bones and abandonment.
And yet here you are with your beautiful broken angel,
who has breathed new life into your dry bones,
and taught you to sing anew with the early morning birds