Heat, Lava, Steam 1 by Valerie Harbolovic

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.

About Valerie Harbolovic