Visiting Letitia

I have left behind 

a head-shaped dent in the pillow,

a tub of cashews on the table,

a loaf of dark rye in the fridge,

a pair of long dark boots 

that fitted you better than me,

and some reassurances.

I have taken away

some deeper certainties,

my chakras re-aligned,

a magic square of cloth

to tuck under my mattress

for comfortable sleep,

and your wise face in my mind.

All that good talking stays –

a form of nurture. 

So much better than messages, 

emails, or even phone:

a weekend sitting on a couch

opposite yours in your living-room,

going nowhere but going everywhere.

Happily at home in your home –

over the years the scene

of family Christmas feasts –

I feel myself unfurl and stretch

like a fern, expanding in light.

You see me and do not judge

though you surely discern.

Because you share with me

the steps and halts of your journey, 

I've watched with concern, 

fascination, and final delight –

falling easily into a role

I've trained for all my life:

sounding-board, reality-check.

Again we told each other

more and more parts of our stories.

We ate good food. We laughed.

Occasionally we noticed

tears in each other's eyes.

We offered and needed no comfort

but open seeing and spoken truth.

You didn't want me to leave.

I didn't want to go.

But Life is calling us onward

into the everyday non-ordinary.

Never fear! I shall return

again when the time is right.

I know the road.


Linking to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #367