“What do I remember?
Impressions: I am here for you.”

Is there hope after death? Lifeless body, shell
Of someone I once loved, lived with, shared
Bed, bath. How we enjoyed unfettered love,
Passions, weekends on Fundy Bay, coast of
Maine. Clouds descended, accident, time-
Place blurred, gravel and glass, metal twisting,
Flesh and bone violated beyond life-saving.
One of us was unconscious, distant voices,
Loud pounding, the other dead. In strange
Ways, it seemed the same, except I felt pain
Breathing on my own. What do I remember?
Impressions: I am here for you. Voices from
Another plane, life and truck turned upside.

Who had most difficulty accepting your death,
You or me? First few weeks were post-surgical
Aching, crying, your ashes, woman I loved in
Heavy plastic baggie, serial-numbered tag,
No name, no wedding rings, tattoos, all I loved
Reduced to powdery bone. How I missed your
Eye-lights. Dreams occurred, impressions,
Visions tangible in my sleep. We talked face-
To-face, across or through timeless veil. “We
Can meet in Bucksport, same hotel with the cat,
Stop in Belfast for lobster, butter on your t-shirt.”
Memories or were we touching from parallel
Planes, realities soul-etched or imaginings?

“We spoke no words until arriving at familiar isle.”

Fateful day, ferry from Stonington to Isle au
Haut, arrangements made to spread your ashes
Along spruce-clad isle. Passengers off-loaded,
Just me, boat captain, and his mate. Revving
Diesels, we spoke no words until arriving at
Familiar isle. Pocket knife, heavy baggie cut
Open, boat at slow bell, ashes to water pouring,
Floating, eddies turning round and round, for
Brief moment, you shimmered on rocky shore,
And I, we realized you were dead. Thus was my
Last vision, last dream of you, of us, time-space
Between us closed. Is there hope after death?
Question still remains.

For those who have lived, loved, and lost loved ones…
This poem is not autobiographical. 

Thanks for reading.

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