The gust of wind that blew
Did not take away the weight
I thought it would.
If anything, I feel heavier
For the storm, that rained on,
Did not cleanse, it only drenched.
Heavy, deep inside, with no hope
Of ever shedding that baggage of grief.
When you lose, shouldn’t you be light?
For you are suddenly free, severed.
Of responsibility, of being bonded.
You are that kite, soaring on freed string.
You are that feather, blowing thither, every which way.
YOU are free.
And there is free. Again.
Free of you.
Free to keep you ever, in my heart.
To know sometimes, visit memories.
Free to grieve.
I wonder, though, when
I will be.
29 January, 2012