Shifting the Weight

  The weight of his coffin is bearing down on me This morning I did not want to get out of bed Did not want to face the world alone. I have to put the coffin down Stretch Shift the weight Hoping that the Weight will lighten with time It feels like more than three years since Darryl died. But I am still to reach the anniversary. As I spend time remembering I am putting together some pieces that have been scattered all over the place. Perhaps the ritual of doing this will help me see how far I have come.   We parted company at the last corner before the freeway I turned left and they took him returning him as ashes that sit waiting to be scattered I have searched the groves and quiet glades stood hopefully at the gates of Shangri-la but to no avail. I would lie with him if there were somewhere we could lie, embracing holding one another But how does one lie with ashes? The old woman takes the grain filled ashes and spins them ever so carefully weaving a glorious banner filled with memories for me to cling to. She sends me home to where my my heart is gently reassuring that this is where I will find him. Nine months later we scattered Darryl's ashes in a quiet grove by the Stony Creek he had asked to rest by. Then in 2009 the devastating Victorian fires raged through this area and left a charred mess. I visited some weeks later and the place still felt serene but it was clear that a force, of the proportions of an atomic bomb, had ravaged this quiet valley. Within weeks there were signs of regeneration. Now I am looking for them in the lonely  wasteland I have inhabited for too long.