Six years ago on this day, also a Sunday,
My husband sighed his last breath and was no more.
I have raged and wept for a very long time.
And yet, on this day,
I can no longer deny the living that surrounds me.
As I walk around the garden that I shall leave very soon; And despite the cacophony of the dawn chorus,
And the cool of the wind against my neck,
And the shimmer of the rising sun that dazzles my eyes,
I feel the silence.
A trembling, elemental quiet
That stills my soul
And thrills my mind
And for a moment … I do not breathe.
Burlesque Press 