Ethan H.
(Winter) Adam—
You’re not the rain
not supposed to
fall from the sky
spin down the trees
roll low around in the
warm winter of Texas,
a front moving south.
Not supposed to
drop you, Adam.
Watch you fall in
my dreams as I rip
off my sleeping mask,
panting like dog without
his leash, as if you were
my leash.
When I’m fully awake,
Feeling nothing
but remorse, I am
reminded that I have
always lacked the trees,
never enough to make
a full East Texas forest.
Or rather;
I have never
had the answers to
any of the questions
that you could’ve asked
me.
Instead, when
people around me say:
I’ll pray for you
before my head hits
the firmness of my pillow,
I think:
please pray for Adam instead.
And it might work this time.
Grief really is a strange feeling. Almost a negative feeling (as in the opposite of feeling). You've written something calm and peaceful and also something that forever stands still before a bridge that can't be crossed. Forever poised. Wonderful as always. Thanks for this last poem of the year