Five Years Later

When they called to tell me about you
my belly was full and round with new life.

I remember thinking at the time
that you will never again know the simple beauty
of the end of summer tomato
enjoyed beneath a drawn-tight curtain of blue sky.
I remember thinking of you-
the way you gave up almost by accident

And then, my belly became larger, yet motionless
just before he was born:
the quiet stillness signaling something.

Now, I look at my son’s long lean body,
bouncing with happiness,
and say a prayer that he will never know
the dark that consumed you.
That he will always remember
the simple pleasure of the end of summer tomato
and this will sustain him enough
to see spring burst
after the long quiet of winter.

4 responses to “Five Years Later

  1. Such a large life to be cut short so soon. I think about him all the time… I picture him holding court in Heaven, talking movies and a whole lot of jive. Dancing and laughing and keeping watch over his friends. Now, he is also eating end of summer tomatos. 🙂

  2. You leave me breathless with this one, A. Exquisite.

  3. You are wonderful in how you capture the simplicity and the complexity of the man.

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