Some collisions
across space-time--
no matter how brief
or well defined--
imprint on the one
the other's reverse,
maintaining contact
through mysterious bonds.
Like the reach
of his eyes
through her sleep
deep at night
stirring the water
of her dreams,
changing the chemistry
of what he can see.
There is no leaving
what will not be lost.
The stage may go dark,
and the music fall shy,
but once entangled,
the dance is such
that if one goes left,
the other,
light years away,
tilts right.
Einstein called
this phenomenon
"spooky action
at a distance."
I call this
love.
I could have let you
fade away
It would have been
easy to do
I never held your hand,
after all
Never heard your laugh
in my ears
Didn't even know, for starters,
if your eyes were brown or blue
But no.
Something on this screen
made me look up your name
which seems right
because for me
and for us
This
is where you lived.
And now that I know
--now that I've seen what
I should've known before--
that your life could not
be contained by
a world of make-believe,
emoticons and avatars
or by two sons you loved
so fiercely
Now that I know
where you went
and how you chose
to arrive
Now that I feel
how blue
blue really is
I wish to God I could
rewrite an ending
that had firmly taken
hold of your hand
--
For my friend, Christine Eldin, who was the light and the glue and as fine a person as she was a writer. I'll meet you on The Strand.
