and so it is.
the perfection of little june’s reply ‘his name’ when asked what she’ll
miss most about her deceased guinea pig Cookie.
and isn’t it true,
that sometimes the very thing that chews on our hearts the most
is not the literal passing on of a life
but more the abstract digestion of mortality itself.
the permanence. the ‘not-here-anymore-ness.’
and grandma, do not hear this as a dishonoring of your glorious pulse
that stopped three days ago.
i knew some of you.
your laughing smile
your jack-knife dives
the floating gardenias that perfumed your soft elbows
and the hearty way you threw love at your god.
yes, and the hearty way you threw love at your god.
your wide open hymn was heard for more than 90 years on this planet
and we felt it’s blaze.
you prayed hard that we would sing along
and in your eyes, some of us didn’t.
but maybe now you understand
that as we marched those heavy volumes away from stained glass and holy pew,
into forests and campfires
to metamorphose with the kindling who birthed them,
that our song was the same.
crackling together and becoming ash.
into the symphony of black
and magnificently mirrors
our love back.
so yes grandma, i will miss more than your name.
(but then again, you weren’t named Cookie.)