when the sparrow falls, or the tree in the woods,
and a black-headed Chickadee
sings echoes
and you notice notice
God watching, recording every sound
made loud even the towel you
thought to
throw down
the wolf stalking the deer
barely a sound
notice
she fell off a deer, a stag—running
through the bush, up north
on a bet with her cousin, $200
she wouldn’t do it: leap to its back
catch the rhythm of life outside
her circle; her noose
of a circle—
she waited for her breakfast plate, quietly
without realizing—until she was told—
it had come; was right there in front of her
waiting for her, quietly—
to eat, to nourish, to keep her going
although she wasn’t sure
where she was going
today
she had dementia; don’t they
know?
brought to church as a boy;
a man when he married; and now passing
the building with a child on his hand,
but no more ring
he looks through the window plastered
in the busy way with notices: what’s Up Next—
sees the dates all land somewhere in the future;
and he laughs, knowing they do not know
what’s Up Next or might last—
not knowing this is not the question he wants
answered; it’s his own and needs to be heard
not what’s going to happen?
rather: What Happened?!
this wind on our cheeks, the scent of lilies
mingles; we’ve come to visit
remember what was and might have been;
our love of heaven
expressed in simple ways
to hear her voice clothed again
with skin, the same as ours when
we all had things to say
that mattered (and didn’t_)
when we laughed
at ease
when death wasn’t scary
or real
was there such a time—when we laughed, mingled
