LOVE of my LIFE
by Gerald T. Ching
Coming in from the cold, I feel
the rush of heat that blasts from the furnace. I curl
and crunch my toes, wiggling them
in my heavily worn boots
while rubbing my hands together
to help work the circulation back.
Flush with the relief of warmth, I make way
to the kitchen table where you wait.
Shadows light your face grotesquely in the dimness
that illuminates the room. Hesitantly,
but with a confident air
I stride across the creaking wooden floor.
The air smells of memories, old and musky
their ghosts lingering. Smoke wafts
through the stagnant air from a forgotten cigarette,
the staleness giving way to the hazy deadness of yesteryear.
At the table you sit
surrounded by long defeated ghosts.
Your eyes shining in the dimness
strong and true, steadfast.
His strength holding you within yourself.
Unmoving and unwavering,
your calm demeanor eases
my own anxiousness.
With you by my side
and me by yours, our worries
float to the fire. Shrills and shrieks
light the furnace as the hazy mist
incinerates to ash, brightening
the small room with a new light of hope,
filling our souls with a fresh love,
and our minds with big dreams.
Together we hold all at bay;
together we are home.
Sadness welled in the pit of my heart
with the news of your departure. In that split
second, my heart fell from my chest
as grief overcame me.
Within the many tattered letters
that are now my keepsakes, your spirit lives on
as they are read in the privacy of loneliness.
A new season promises of joy
with the coming of Spring, a rebirth into a new life
with the melting of the snow. The first blossoms
yearning for nourishment are breaking
the hard packed ground, well rested
in the past long winter months;
their roots still having strength.
Their determination brings tears to these jaded eyes.
Collecting the first rays of sunshine, the seedlings
cry to the heavens, boldly announcing
their arrival to an indifferent world
as all newborns do when they are birthed.
Peering from the window of a fast moving car,
the blurred landscape of a passing world
covers the miles that these eyes see in all directions;
the misinterpreted vision lays heavy my eyelids. Sinking
into the plush leather upholstery
my thoughts drift into a gentler state of existence,
easing the creases in my brow; softening my face.
On the whispering winds my spirit catches a breeze, up
to the dizzying heights of pillow soft clouds – I fly
dreamily banking at impossible speeds, careening through
this ethereal dreamscape – I soar, drunkenly.
Through large patches of space my mind takes me.
Breaking through the cobwebs of old
that clutter my aging mind,
as my spirit soars through grace.