A broken need to find you
leads me to your grave.
Grass has grown; oaks and birches
gather around your grave like mourners,
yet there is only one today.
My feet lead me to you,
my mind wandering among dust-covered memories:
A kitchen sink full of dishes
vanishes in a flash of soap suds and giggles,
while weeding the garden fades
into carrying the salt & pepper shakers
to the shade tree to eat ripened tomatoes in the sunshine...
As I stand over your grave,
these memories bring me to my knees,
and while my humbled form quakes
with suppressed tears of grief,
I realize I am grateful for the hurt,
for these painful memories,
for they are proof I knew you.