Across the Aching Blue Sky

When you see that I have died,
when you look into that place
where my odd and quirky connections
meld and find resonant splendour
in hearts…

and you see the ashes
overlaying chilled stones and cold coals
are become grey overcoats covering
what I have finally learned
to be ashamed of?

Scrape them up,
shovel and shoe them,
trowel and trough the grits,
find a yearn
to place them in,
decorative and strange,
intricate and engraved
and singing,
like me back then…

and carry that vase back
across the silent square,
and toss my ashes in the air

Let them fly
across the sky
in one last kiss
then wave goodbye,
and falling, floating,
snowing what made me
special and vibey…

I will let go gently…and slip away.

I am still over there…
where everyone stands,
and drinks coffee and nods sagely…
I will be in roundabouts,
staying in my lane and signalling

(my intentions clear finally
even to the least of these)

signalling easily…now that I float across the sky…
and drifting easily, wispy
and fading into just like
everyone everything everywhere else…
just like that.

what was it,
that made me…
made me me?

My song?
My voluminous
preludes and silly rhymes?
My heart that cries at
a bird wing flashing or
a dove cooing or
a dark look
looming and loutish?

Alas…the sky waits, the sky opens, beckons,
but cannot contain and hold, no.
It can just be that canvas
for the stygian ashy calligraphy
of a unique but too too me.

And now
I am seeing the traces,
in the smoke and vapors
of  ‘trodes and tendrils,
shocks that curb,
that cut back hard,
that make all things not new,
but same…and safe…
for others but not for me.

the glitter of dreams,
the flakes of hope,
and the ashes of a heart…
a heart…what…dripping?

Fire does belly up,
hungry and focused on eating,
fire does purge, pardon,
and place me there
in the park,
on the swings,
the teeter totter,
in the quail and quay quiet at last…
and still.

Spread them, fling them, across the sky…
across the aching blue sky.


5 thoughts on “Across the Aching Blue Sky

  1. “And now I am seeing the traces,
    in the smoke and vapors of ‘trodes and tendrils,
    shocks that curb,
    that cut back hard,
    that make all things not new,
    but same…and safe…
    for others but not for me.”

    “Even the smallest star shines in the darkest sky”, Friend.


  2. Thanks D and K…my stalwarts and the knowers of the language my heart talks. Thank you for picking out the part of the poem that actually had a bit of craft in the midst of my purge.

    I almost didn’t even post it? Yunno, just put it over in “that” folder? But GraceNotes has always been about honesty…spiritually, physically…and emotionally as well.

    Specifically to you Sis’s…thank you for knowing me well enough that I can post that and you are like tapping your hearts, then mine, then yours, and telling me “say on, sis, we have been there, and we are here too”.

    Much, much love and gratitude

    and as always, thanks to the gentleman kevin as well

  3. Pingback: This is like my poem Across the Aching Blue Sky | Charissa's Grace Notes

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