Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Love to Ian

I saw my Friend

(some many months had passed
 since last we’d shared a beer
and something in these Flint Hills
of an evening
full of setting orange sun and owls’ calls
I took his shoulder to cry upon
(standing in the eastside market
holding our season’s best cantaloupes,
“the first ones that really taste like cantaloupe”
he said
before remarking that

I probably didn’t know
what kind of spring it had been

That night I held my Love
(he held me tightly too, as we held our Friend in our heart and realized

we will never know a spring like that
losing a son
losing a child

Pain pushes you off of the earth

you away
left below in the fluff
Grief unveiled
encircles you
you follow, spiraling
rising on the thermals
God calling
(We loved our friend that night,
standing in the Zeandale kitchen
where Dave had
graced us
with his real good self and his two Little Ones.
The love in our prayers—
may it help you to stand.)

Ian's story HERE

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