Grief is love with nowhere to go,
some shaman said and
took people to the sea so
their tears became tides and flowed freely.
We did this
for ourselves and each other
at the same stretch of sand where we grew breasts and
scattered beards.
Though there wasn’t much beach left
everything and everyone else was the same.
Except you were gone. Are.
You grounded us
even as the one most cloudlike.
In your garden I sobbed,
picked an unripe yellow lemon and
rosemary (remembrance)
to inhale comfort
because we never came out here together
only your dark room a hundred times.
because you showed me your flowers
only in my dream
which will now spread over your ashes.
because you will not grow into
an old mindless man with us—
even as the elder in our youth.
because you can’t fully beat this and
make greater meaning of life
or say aloud
we already have.
Somehow this is both betrayal and forgiveness.
