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A Garden For Your Ghost  (9/11)



The day you left, Autumn went with you
It was winter right away
The city kind, where snow falls heavy, and gray
-and snowmen slouch to their knees in muck.

While I stood in the archway
of a cracked-face store
staring at the sky,
waiting for the rain.
-Waiting for you to walk up
and show me that you're okay.

I know, in the illogic of my heart
that you've not gone,
you simply left to follow the sun.
I know, as I fall to the fate of sleep
that you stir awake.
Not so far off, that I can't hear you still
singing to me.
Not so far off; these everyday dreams.
I can't name a single song,
but I can see your face.

It's a quiet world, around me now
after the stonefall settled down.
I thought to gather it up, make a wall,
but then I'd end up locking myself in, and alone
and you out, when you try to come home.

Winter retires, but this rain has not
for it is not.
It's the tears and the sweat
of the snowmen's tired journey.
These clouds are their spirits, lifting away
through their confusion, in all the flurry;
Restless ghosts, too loved to float astray.

I know, in the illogic of my heart
you've not left with them,
so I don't pray.

There's a basket, by the door
for your dirty clothes.
Atop the stairs, on the banister,
your robe.

I'm in the family room
'tho it's not (but I hope)
by the window, looking past the snow.

When you left,
you took away the logic
to the seasons.
Through the television
it's mostly blue.
But off and on, it shows
again, the lack of reason,
of falling stones, crumbling snowmen,
gray rainbows,
and ten thousand tears, for you.

Inside this window,
I've lit a candle for you.
I cup its lonely warmth.
It sits beside a yellow rose,
I swear, tho, I swear
it's not the start
of a garden for your ghost.

When you left, years ago today,
a struggle started
-As logic and I parted.
Of fate and faith,
one so strong and obnoxious
and one quiet, not as obvious.

All those ghosts, I couldn't save,
in my tears I didn't see you wave
-If you did, I wouldn't know.
I admit, I knelt to ground
as the gathering puddles
mirrored the stone falling down.
But my love, I'm standing now.

It's been many years,
clouds again come and go.
Rain is again rain
and snow, it's just snow.

But in the still, illogic of my heart,
there's a few ghosts.
Maybe one of them met you
and could tell me, before they go,
where you went, when we had to part.
Where you are, besides my heart.

This sky, this peaceful blue,
carrying wayward spirit-clouds,
none of them you.

All those ghosts;
Any one, I'd save
Just to tell me, still
that you're not alone.

My love, I'm still brave
until you come home.



Styxian
Written by Styxian
Published
Author's Note
Written a few years after the 9/11 attacks. A survivor's take. I had been reading about some of the victims and was overwhelmed with sadness.
*The "snowmen" represent those that were covered in...
Written a few years after the 9/11 attacks. A survivor's take. I had been reading about some of the victims and was overwhelmed with sadness.
*The "snowmen" represent those that were covered in the ashes and debris.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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