chela 4 july 2002-- 21 may 2015

maybe i will write something that will adequately express the grief that i am going through but then again probably not ...it has hardly been a year since maxwell left me and now...you.


and it was so very fast...

 i come home to an empty apartment...this is the first time i have ever truly lived alone and

 i miss you terribly

i pick up your ashes tonight and i wish the person who called me would have pronounced your name

correctly, and it's funny how deep that wound reveals itself...what emptiness it reveals: the scope, the depth



the world is wider and vaster...and starker now
but i guess that is what grief is all about...negotiating the growing space of loss

Gewiteđ þonne on sealman, sorhleođ gæleđ
an æfter anum; þuhte him eall to rum,
wongas ond wicstede. (Beowulf 2460-2)