Moontide’s Ocean
measurements of loss as lived through ebbs and flows in present time
I.
The Moon came full again
and I protested
No it cannot be so soon
don’t I have a few more days at least
It’s not time yet
I am not ready for it
I lept toward the calendar
fingers fumbled tracing lines and stabbing squares on printed grid
dull mind lost in open-ended trance
called to attention
caught unaware and in-between what has been a sea of changes
since you’re gone
I have been drifting
somehow managing
to keep my head above the water
while often overcome by currents in the flow
II.
I am still standing on the curb
city buses roaring past
taxis honk
stopping briefly then they’re off again
crowds of people pouring in and out around me
shouting, laughing, pushing
and my body’s bruised
and my legs won’t walk
and I am pinned here, to this cement corner
in this long moment
overwhelmed
but sensing in a broader way
listening to my heart
waiting for myself to feel ready for what’s next
know what to do
Now
whenever that is
III.
I pull myself together -focus-
add each row’s sequence of white and black
so full of
trauma, presence, tasks, no time to write it down
what appears to be a blank record
hanging by a magnet, precarious,
misrepresents
in its attempt to chart and log the time
Today’s the 16th I declare
hot and flushed with temporary vindication and relief
Yes! I was right
It hasn’t been a whole month yet
…unless you’re the Moon…
Still raw, I’m quick
in grabbing for a spear
(Back Off Moon!)
protective of my fragile state
but end up grasping straws and sticks
short end: mine
And the tide rolls in, regardless,
It’s Been A MONTH.
The buoy I was gripping to deflates
and I slip off and sink
splashing in my tears
IV.
Tonight it has been 35 days
Thanksgiving
Invited by a friend to join and share
a warm feast she beamed was “made with love”
And this newly orphaned soul showed up
for a tepid try at company
Belly stuffed and leaving with a heavy bag of extra meals
but still significantly empty
dinner’s unspoken grief took the steering wheel
and drove me quietly to the next town
where you lived
and parked in front
This is where I was supposed to be
This is where I was last year
Here is where I need to be right now
even if you’re gone
Car door opens and I get out and
I just stand there in the cold night
on the street
still in shock
Staring at your entry porch
Staring at your front door
Looking for you in this familiar place
waiting for feelings to find me again
a replay of that odd rhythm interrupting calm
upending me and tossing me about
as you once did
Memories rush in
sweeping me into their flood of images and stories
challenges
moods and misperceptions
peculiarities
all touchstones and companions for my life
now spongy, floating, bobbing up and down
in the present moment
moontide’s ocean
swelling,
lifting, dropping, gliding,
coursing over me
washing through me
(c) Tory Quintero
November 26, 2021
