The corner café

must close, because times have changed --


There is a new law.

I wish every bump in the road
Was a towering alp

Face lit by the sun
From basement to scalp

Should each crack on the asphalt
Become deep fissured cleft

I wouldn’t care much
Or feel particularly bereft

If the train should pass
Across the tracks on our way

My hand could stay in yours
While we wait the delay

Anything to keep you
From leaving much too soon

Another hour, minute, second
Just a handful or teaspoon

She asked me to write her a poem,
this is what I wrote…

She dreams of winter winds
that blow her breath and smiles
She likes the simple things
like walks, talks and style
and when she asks me for my time
I know she’s only teasing
she knows that without her love
I could not go on singing

For this reason then,
she told me to sing a song
and this is what I sang…

My voice is not the song of kings
nor any angel will heed my cry
But of all the sweetest things I bring
the sound of silence I will try
Not to strangle the loudest tear
or hang a hope of sky
As long as my love she loves me
before the day my love does die

She told me then to tell a tale
one that will never end…

Allow me to turn you into a book
I’ll breathe your story into the breeze
turn the pages of your eyes  
and whisper waves among the seas
Let them leave your soil of sorrow
Let them fill your dug up hole
find some shade within the shadow
where branches green within your soul

She stares weakly at the rest of me,
and asks, “Are there no other words
you keep?”

I look into her dying eyes
words take her final breath

My love lies down to sleep

Alas it was but in that moment, when your soul cascaded into the night sky, that I understood what a goodbye truly meant. A chill crawled down my spine as your body grew colder by the minute beneath my touch; a solemn awakening on my conscience as grief greeted me yet again. This familiar path I feared to embark on again has resurfaced, baring with its somber recollections - I witnessed you…finally at rest.

Her arms would never turn the corner to greet me as I landed from my flight,
The warmth in her laughter shall fall to silent ears as the house ceases to echo,
Those eyes would never challenge the radiance of the sun again,
For it was in this moment I embraced the season of change, the art of letting go.

Letting go is a natural part of life that arises in manners we may never consider. May it be a goodbye placed upon a past lover, a former roommate, an old apartment, even a job site - goodbyes signify the end of a chapter. 2023 bore many moments of letting go for me as I relished in the art of departure. I lost my grandmother, the woman who raised me. This emotion was overwhelming as it marked the beginning of her legacy that I am now adorned to live. I have encountered many moments of goodbye this year: moving states, a heartbreaking end to a relationship, ending a program, seeking a new field of employment, ending a friendship - the list is exhaustive. Yet, it wasn’t until the passing of my grandmother I truly recognized the beauty of letting go.

The art of departure entails embracing what once was whilst creating space for what is to come. Letting go is freeing yourself of expectations - rather having abundant expectancy.

What a love it must have been,
to have blackened the skies in its absence
and to burn through the nothingness that was once my heart.

The love between us was but a moment in time
but has carved itself a piece of eternity.

When I look to the stars,
I know they belong to you,
for the divinity of your eyes has looked upon them.
And so through the stars,
I shall always find you
looking through.

What a love it must have been.
For though you are now gone,
my heart shall always beat for you,
and even when my mortal body is through,
I shall shine through the night skies,
for you.

When we say goodbye,

my waving hand trembles, but --


father doesn't notice.

Back in the Garden

of Love, I walk around lost --


among gravestones.

I left her behind,

'See you tomorrow', I thought --


it would be okay.