February 21, Every Year


Today you emerged
from hibernation
and tapped my shoulder.

Look, you said,
I am
swept under the heartbeat
of your memory, sleeping;
covered by hours,
then by days,
finally by years,
until my laughter
fades from memory
and the sound of my voice
is lost.

I am only noticed
when February cuts into
your heart
or in my picture
one-sided and posed.

You look for me
across the mountain's top
as if my ashes are what
seed the ground.
I can feel
the pilgrimage
of your feet
upon my soul.

You know by now
that your heart beat
is me
and the ache
in womb,
the full blue-veined
breast of remembering
is where you can find me.

I will always be there,
trust your tears.
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Reposted in loving memory of Michelle http://www.angelfire.com/zine/bereaved/michelleopen.html