Cried
as I pressed my cold fingers against the steaming glass
of the windshield,
your coffin.
My hands
might have shattered the glass - or the unyielding glass
my bones -
so hard did I pound in fury
over the loss of husband
friend
protector.
Screaming
through tightly clenched teeth and cursing life
the world
people who were happy
the very existence of love
of loss
of anything I could think of because
you
were dead.
Months passed
and another day
I stopped crying,
stopped screaming.
Picked myself up
and set out to fend on my own,
to find my way alone,
a virtual widow
at twenty-one.
On the way I found myself,
and somehow
found someone else,
And I don't need you as much anymore
but today you're back.
Back...
People aren't supposed
to come back from the dead.
The doctor said,
they said, they promised
you were gone
Your mind locked -
no longer yours.
No longer mine...
So I'm faced with the tragedy
of a miracle never expected.
Potential for a life
I thought was gone
(stolen
when we were both
so young).
And now here I sit
talking to you, looking into the eyes
of the living dead for whom I've grieved,
faced with a choice.
Think of the life we had
...the life I have now...
And all I can think is I can't
afford
another funeral.