Beautiful and broken
Brilliant and foolish
Elegant and rough
Determined pushover
Captive eagle
Wild and caged
I collect your broken pieces
And attempt to construct meaning
Where maybe there never was
If I am a cycle breaker
I’m saying you did something wrong
Which is violating
I’m sorry
You did your best
I can’t fault that
I only wish I could have helped you
Become free
Though I suppose you are free
Now
At the end
But free here, where you wanted to be
The whole world to explore
But you are free now
Of all of us
And all of this
The eagle stretches her wings
And soars
More than seventeen years, and I’m not sure I miss her any less than I did that first day. The shock is muted, but the pain remains vivid and strong. She is still the first person I think to call when something big happens and the person I most wish my daughter could meet; they would have been kindred spirits, soul sisters, bosom companions, best friends.
Our relationship was broken, but her loss only broke it more. There can be no healing when one half is gone. You cannot reattach a limb that is buried in the dirt, even in a lead-lined coffin.
“Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”― William Goldman, The Princess Bride
Bleak, but true.
To laugh is to cry
To have is to lack
To rejoice is to fear
To love is to grieve