bent to nowhere
"the dead shall return" ZJC (2009)
Often I wonder what the dead do when they are not here; and by dead I mean friends who are no longer part of my life. A semester ends, a job ends, a relationship ends and friends disappear, most of which I never see again. I recall the time as a small child it suddenly dawned on me that there were people in my life that I would never meet again; they would simply vanish as if they had died.
And yet sometimes the dead do return. Whatever it was that you did to bring a friend back works. They surprise you for whatever reason — happy accident, crisis, determination. The telephone rings, the door opens, a face you had resigned never to see again is in front of you. I am not sure what forces in the universe oversees such things, chaos theory might explain things or it might not, but the powers that draw people back into my orbit I am highly thankful for.
First I brought bread, rye, and a cup of cool
water. Then I burnt a lock of my hair
and wrote your name down. It has been a cruel
time and rather lonely until, somewhere
unknown to me, a Goddess of odd, small
kindness read your name. I have friends I care
about who tend to vanish into tall
sugar cane fields, run low bent to nowhere,
never to return. This odd, small rescue
is a blessing, like you. I wake from blind
sleep to this world that frustrates at your rough
knock. This world that frustrates lets me find you
crying on my back doorstep – lets me find
you – and I am happy. That is enough.