A pain so sharp, it cuts.
Senses are lost in a fog, come back soon.
And there’s a void.
A real one.
Why did he have to go?
Heart beats heavy sighs and legs demand a slower pace.
It takes a million years for arms to move this way and that.
Three weeks is a very long time..
And yet, benign.
I think of those who’ve passed.
Like the pictures of Ron Heren, taped to the fatal pole, the one that ended his life.
A corner where Jackie and I must wait for the lights to change.
Leaving your loved one is like a death.
And yet, so benign.
Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.
Be tomorrow now.
Fast forward to the race’s end.
Change the lights quick.
Bring back comfort, my pillows and blankets.
Speed this time forward like a jet plane.