I keep seeing signs of you,
or from you. I’m not sure which.
Or what you may be
trying to tell me. Or if
it’s even you. Is it?
Seems like a bit much
to be coincidental. Feels too persistent
to ignore. Too constant
to forget. In the background, but
always there. Much like you
were in real life.
I miss the days when we talked
so much that we didn’t need to
anymore. We only had to think it
not say it, but we knew we’d
always say it anyway.
I still see your eyes smiling
as you listened and talked and listened.
“I can read you like a book!”, you’d brag.
And, you could. As I could you.
Usually. We kept a few secrets.
Now, my inherited skepticism
is louder than all the forty-twos in the world.
I’d love to believe… but, it’s not like me
to not know you. I’m not good
at reading in-between these signs.
Slowly, I’m coming into focus,
I think. One pixel at a time.
I can almost see
All that I once was, elements lost
and found, miraculously, settle in
to what I am now. Leaving room
for hope and whatever I might be. And,
through squinted eyes, and breath
held tight, I can almost see, almost believe
Slowly, I’m coming into focus,
finally. One pixel at a time.
I can almost see the me
I want to be.
I’ve almost forgotten
what it feels like to walk
naturally sure and steady
without the constant click, click, click
of a cane that beats in time to my pace
accompanying every other annoying step
making me feel so old and less than
the woman, mother, person I once was.
I’ve almost forgotten
what it feels like to walk
without pain, with just my dog
and sometimes the moon following along
as we travel to the churchyard and back,
around the block, or to and through
our favorite woods, where the creek
is undoubtedly running high today.
The woods…
I’ve almost forgotten
what it feels like to walk
through their trees, with quiet sounds
that drown out the chaos, while earthy aromas
rise up from dirt paths that give way
to my footsteps, with or without leaves
shuffling or crunching along with us
as we move through our seasons.
I’ve almost forgotten
what it feels like to do
so many things I once loved,
but never really knew how much.
Like, how it felt to just be
the me that I once was – playful, strong, so full
of confidence and myself. Maybe too full
yet still, underrated.
I’ve almost forgotten, almost.
And, what about you?
What do you see when you look
at me? I know you miss me too, but
have you also almost forgotten? Do you remember
me at all? Can you even faintly feel the spring breeze
that smells like the woods, and calls to me by name?
It’s whispering to us, howling to us,
“don’t give up, you’re almost home”.
~ smj
“In every frame upon our wall lies a face that’s seen it all Through up’s and down’s and then more down’s We helped each other off of the ground No one knows what we’ve been through Making it, ain’t making it without you
Maybe I’m not but you’re all I got left to believe in Don’t give up on me, I’m about to come alive And I know that it’s been hard and it’s been a long time coming Don’t give up on me, I’m about to come alive”
Samantha Mariah Jane 