Remembering

The moment I felt Death courting you
my rib cage collapsed—  
curled as a conch until fossilized    
around my heart  
   
I crumbled into childhood—    
became the strange little girl    
always alone  
talking to herself    
on the playground  
thinking she was whispered    
a safe haven of hush-holy clouds—    
relieved to slip away unnoticed  
into a detached solitude    
seeking only shades of rock    
beneath a surface no touch—      
nor even Life could reach    
   
We burgeon most    
from the soil of loss       
   
Listen. . .  
   
Love is the beginning of Truth;    
you were the first coup de foudre  
of past-lives I faced—    
and I thought the last amour  
out of this place  
   
But, we burgeon most  
from the soil of loss
especially in knowledge   
   
I grew to believe    
wherever Death's courtship    
carried you — if ever a marriage    
and honeymoon, or rebirth  
into a new Life's womb—  
that Love embraced you      
   
From the soil of loss    
I burgeoned toward my own destiny    
with nothing less than gratitude  
for the gifted experience    
of remembering    
~