Word & Strings
In remembrance of my mother, Audrey.
The strings are still strong, just invisible.
Simrat Khalsa
Words
What matter words…
one cannot hold a word.
But only things
matter
one needs to have a thing.
And now I hold
a thing
here, coolly, with my hands.
And now I hate
matter
for I have need of words.
~~ Audrey L. Webster
Going, Going, Gone. Serigraph © 2000, Simrat Khalsa
Strings
I touched this person
… and I don’t remember.
I sat in her lap, felt enveloped, protected
… but it did not last.
My senses remember
… my mind does not.
If only by force of will
would the breath move again
and the blood flow,
that the spirit might still be contained.
The body that I touched and loved turned to ash
and was dispersed on the forest floor
to fly away on the summer wind.
Strings that connected
– cut. I was free floating.
genetic ties cannot be cut.
memories can, and do – fail.
Yesterday, I turned thirty-six
… the age she was when she died.
… she looks so young.
I don’t feel that young.
I am alive.
The path forward is uncharted.
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