frames

i watch your shadow leave the room, swing and wash through the corridor and witness the scent of your used shampoo filling the void that was once empty. i don't need no heater or regulating conditioning, cos you're here, inhabiting this place i have temporarily found to be home. home to a heart that needs safety, warmth, strength and that old school attitude to wield the sword and shield like that movie, 300. i know, it's just a romantic notion and it will pass. why is there a double standard in matters like these?

so i gather my fire wood, like the possums and squirrels and meerkats, dig, scavenge and burrow, to store for the cold seasons ahead, when the sun holds insufficient warmth for the months ahead. i capture still frames of goodness, courage, the father figure, the captain of my shipwrecked vessel, my home delivery of love and grace, to keep a memory of you, should time take place to make distance the fonder reminder of kinship without blood for water. i edit away, through late nights, under hoods of artificial light, archiving the perversity, my sanity, your brevity, watching you traverse a thin line of law & grace, life and death. for death you say, is necessary to bring life. i'll try not to think in memento verses of freud and his friends.

where this may take me, i don't know. but time waits for no man, certainly not for me a man with a limb and a paralyzed anatomy. i don't know if it will all come tumbling down. i don't know if grace is enough to save me from the overwhelm. but i'll make the best of my remaining years. to make sure what i leave behind brings life and gives you and those you find love in your heart to embrace, enough to be, till a ripe old age.

may wine do more than bring us fleeting moments of joy. may healing come from the years and the hands that made it all possible.