are we there yet?

i wrote you a poem a few years ago
only remember a few lines now, and
the day i read into a microphone
over your silent suit n' tie
i knew words wouldn't mean anything
wherever you went

i still think about where that is
exactly

still struggle to grasp the idea that
you may have gone back to become a part
of everything
back into matter that surely
can't be unmade
so must change form or where it lay -
different than staying a being
lost or not
or simply booking into some version of heaven

at least then, though
it would still be you

wherever you've gone
i wonder if you remember where you've been
if you've managed to start that new scene
without regrets
if maybe they fell away
if everything became glaringly clear once you were free
if ever you miss making poetry