la vita ha lacrime per il dolore e la gioia...

la vita ha lacrime per il dolore e la gioia

(though my heart is heavy, I am smiling, loving what a life, Chris Bearup did lead)


with its scythe 
and an uncanny knack 
for always being there 
where needs be waiting
death slips unseen  
an integer lien 
a part of every life, here 
bargained for or found, 
I would guess 
this is addressed 
when at first 
we come to be
a soul to bones 
to breathe...


death doth knock with marrow on its mind 
every name is but intention fleshed and stretched over skin 
amble soul entertains night's shade from a birthed swim 
even if death doth knock with 'morrow on its mind 


death does not wait for the light to turn green 
nor when any moment is just right for you or me
rarely will we see death coming 
it has mastered the stolen confident quiet cajole of rain
tides and Moon, fence and calendars, all with a smile 
it rides tall knives, in the reeds, a changeling of seasons...
-
-
reasons are things that we swear by
when we feel we've been here before 
when, the what of every dream 
is how we begin to fall 
when realizing this is how 
every life will end 
with something beyond 
our control, walking 
out and away 
through some door...

yes, we mumble something, 
something about promising, 
to palm our last exhale, leaping
into the Sun with someone
if only, to imagine them 
as staying with us 
for awhile longer
-
-
each memory says 
this is what it smelled like
when we were made to laugh 
when we branded ourselves 
a-wrought-iron-a-glow 
with these things 
we held in the just past...

we always hold 
some safe harbor 
we've lit, in hopeful cause 
in our never-squeezed-
too-tightly land 
of making believe
some tragedy 
hasn't happened 
to us yet...
-
-
and when we need move on 
we awaken our slip forms 
and our fires become dream ready 
we capture the imagery 
in a hurried, 
fleeting awareness 
that this is perhaps, life 
as it was meant to be seen
something telling of we 
always being in the middle 
of one of our best(s) of time 
if only we'd chosen to see...

because no, we are never ready 
to let go of someone 
who has died unexpectedly 
we are not wired to be as such 
this is why love lasts 
even in faded recall 
and old photographs...
-
-
death doth knock with marrow on its mind
when ye bones are a who and what ye will be
and yes some of we may be spared, 
this time 'round, so we just pray on these days, 
our souls are meant to be kept with...

here in the ever after 
we burn inside to out 
wear the ghost limbs 
in our hearts 
of someone who has paid 
the piper reaping, so 
we search for something 
they have left for us worth keeping
something that remains of them
some permanent thing to steal into
some thing we stain ourselves with...

because the truth is 
for most of those 
who got to meet you, Chris
you are someone, we 
already know we miss...

EJR ©