Tuesday, 29 May 2012

Ten Months Gone



A dozen conversations, a baby burbling, an espresso machine's screech. Amid these a palpable silence, where once my consciousness chattered to yours.

In my hands I clasp the silence, turn it over: made of clay, yet throwing, hurling won't shatter it. Hardened, fired at a terrific heat. Months till it cooled enough to handle or, rather, till its touch didn't scald and briefly efface my fingerprints.

What if I had held it, while hot, to my face? Some days still I wish I had done it, wish everyone could see the scar of your loss. 

3 comments:

  1. Anonymous8:11 am

    Thank you for sharing this.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Excellent words Carrie, the smallest things return us to grief sometimes.

    Jim

    ReplyDelete
  3. Not sure if my comment made it? Sorry if its here twice.

    Excellent words Carrie, sometimes it is the smallest things that return us to our grief.

    Jim

    ReplyDelete