Nov 19, 2004Comments Off
He now the living
Me sad, says he.
Delayed shock, the loss of someone who should still be a friend, the confrontation with mortality. I know how he feels.
All I have is words and the words are not my own.
Write his name on paper. Put it in the ground or a pot. Plant a vegetable or tree. When you see or eat the plant, he will be beside, or inside you.
This I offer. Send and receive. Sealed with a X.
I can see him now, in Eden, with a shovel and an apple tree. Digging a hole. In the rain. Cap on, trousers hanging off the bony hips. Wellies. Puts a smile on my face. And I can’t lose that.
A very wise, famous man once wrote to me: I am he and he is she and we are all together. We’re all in this together. Long distance be damned.
