Loving better after death? I wonder?
Until she comes to steal breath,
do we know how she will
rearrange the furniture of our souls?
Death sneaks up, sometimes with fanfare,
Often unannounced.
She makes her entrance,
performs her drama,
and leaves her calling cards
on every surface and in every corner.
Her middle name is insidious.
How do I love you in death?
For indeed, much of me has died.
You, on the other hand,
live in memory and narrative
At least for a little while.
How long will it be
until others move on
and I am left in a tomb of dessicated love,
irrigated only by salty tears?
The words echo -
I love you -
I love you -
I love you -
................ -
for where do words stop
when they remain unreceived?
They bounce against the wall
and bash themselves as waves crashing on rocks,
repeating persistently.
How do I love you
here?
(C) A A Koh-Butler, 2020
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