Long held
Estimates
Suggest
Our star,
In main
sequence,
Will burn
For another
Five billion
Years.
And at that time,
A roiling
Ember,
Swollen from
Firesworn
Devouring
Of elements
It will
Embrace
The last trace
Of us,
The dust that
Knit the lattice
Of our form,
And welcome
Us home.
time
Aggregate
Moss covered stone
Sun beckoned
The snow runs off,
Stays in shadow.
Petrichor and
Woodsmoke.
Its said to
Follow beauty,
But forgets.
Swift water flows,
Slows at the bend
In the middle frozen
Hand outstretched
Hard pack and
Hardpan
Veins of quartz
Veins of clay
Dust and ash
Pockmarked with
Grinding rock
Laden and vacant
A thousand years.
Shot rock
In granite
In agate
In aggregate.
Pine needles
In a panic.
Wind summoned.
The sun sets
And fills pockets
Valleys
Inlets
Seethes against
Mountainside.
Long strides
And echo
Against cliff face.
Falling and fallen
Pebbles and ember.
Oxygen fed and
Carbon starved
Stars burn and
Scatter
Then
Burrow
Nestle
Soften the
Darkness.
The long walk.
Time is considered the fourth dimension. A force of nature. It is also interwoven with the fabric of space, warped and wobbled by the gravity of heavy celestial objects.
Loss makes us acutely aware of the passage of time, the weight of it like water pouring over us and carrying us away.
The last time I saw my father is at a fixed point in spacetime. That moment hangs suspended, immovable, immutable, and a part of me with it. We have sped away from that point at 130 miles per second for 18 years.
We are now 73794240000 miles from the last I love you. The Milky Way flung from the singularity, inexplicably, irrevocably.
Loss leaves us separated not only by time but an unfathomable distance. My grief, our grief is the long walk back.
Michelle Joy Gallagher Soffe 