Hour six: Elegy: My Funeral
When I die, there will be no traffic jam,
no escort, no police in my parade.
I do not want a single mother
to be late picking up her child
from a private school she can
barely afford. I do not want a passing
middle-aged accountant to be late
for his family dinner, for his children
to eat in silence, wishing he were
home. I want to learn how to take
up space while I am alive, to dance
sober with the lights on, to break into
song without worrying about my voice
sitting too high in my throat. I want
to wring every sweet note from this life,
crack its bones wide open and suck out
the marrow. I want to die with a list
of accomplishments too large to fit
onto any stone, the correct name
etched into my obituary.
Bright, vibrant colors
Swirling and encircling
Seeing Mommy Through to the end
Squeals of delight
Announces
There is no better place
To be than
Through the tunnel.
Except,
Sometimes,
It’s better to stop
and tease and wait.
Mom smiles,
Doubt vanishes.
Crawling slows to a sit
Safe within
Happy to stay.
THAT NIGHT
I remember the harsh words
The fever pitch screaming
The need to flee and find a place
Of peace.
I drove away
Not knowing where to go
Just following the painted lines on the asphalt
Reflecting in the moonlight.
Or maybe
Reflected in the tears in my eyes.
I don’t really know.
Darkness plays tricks with your vision.
In a pull off by the river
Hidden from view in the black of night
Away from prying eyes
I found my peace.
But the peace was not in that place.
Not in the tears, the car,
The cover of night.
My peace was in you.
I drove fiercely back,
Following those same reflective lines,
The asphalt flying by like a jet stream.
Home to our door.
I remember the love that steered my heart home,
The frantic need to throw open the door
And run madly into your arms.
To say I was sorry, and that you were everything.
But the door was locked.
Your heart was locked.
And the key would never again
Be mine to find.