By Catrice Greer

Lost you
Early November
When the leaves started falling
And time faded backward

Sitting here crocheting
Stitching memories
one loop at a time
Your voice in my head swirling
Humming a hymn, your favorite
And I sing each note yearning, solemn
As if you’d appear suddenly
solo into a duet and we
raise our voices as high
as you ascended when it was time
For you to be called home

I rock
quietly ashen stilted lone tree
Swaying
In a wood still lush
knowing I sit with a pain
I can barely speak the name
awash with memories of you
and the absent space
we called your chair, dresser, your place at the table
the place we used to go every Friday,
your touch, your smile beaming
a side-eye on an inside joke between us,
The memory that had your name all over it that our family can’t tell anymore
without crying, laughing, wishing you here

And one day
I will see your face again
We will see you
Feel you
As your spirit is so close in the air here near me
Near us
vibrating in the humming
I believe I can feel you
We will never forget you
A whisper softly tells me:
‘I am home’