Tomy Bewick

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Rorschach Intentions

in loving memory, for my cousin,
Michael David Berry
born January 17th 1984,
he left this earth January 31st 2006

and there are still times when words fail us…

when specific descriptions only serve to soil the memories of the moments we keep,
where any intimate detailed narrative becomes a dishonor…

so I am here to say;
I no longer see disaster splattered in the Rorschach train tracks of your intentions,
but dragonflies and crowns…

no longer drown in sorrow for the lost tomorrows
rather swim in hope for the future;
for the chance to see something of you come back
to us

we no longer distrust every bell and whistle screaming metal braking in the night;
the shadowed corners of my office no longer filled with dread at the thought of your ghost;
we hold on to the picture of you as innocent;
cling to the sweet visions you transferred to canvas
images in your heart that we never knew enough about;

I have let go of the crippling doubt that this was somehow all my fault
instead I whisper dreams as requiems for your abandon and courage
and should I happen across your apparition:
I wish to find you in solid condition;
as if this afterlife light would have healed you by now;
somehow: through the twists of scrap and shark’s tooth of truth,
you have found peace.

we no longer carry grief like buckets of terror;
I surrender my resentments at the foot of whatever alter I have left;
this stage; this page, this crumpled paper heart.

I have started to build new temples for acceptance and quiet calm;
stood silent at dawn praying you could forgive me
wondering if I will ever forgive myself…
even as I feel the deep well of sadness pooling at your father’s plateau;
there is not a day that doesn’t strike your absence like a gong in our hearts
still there is song enough for all of us.

at dusk when blackened angles of wall meeting ceiling:
I suspend my disbelief long enough to talk to you,
I’m still trying to tell you,
“I’m sorry… I miss you…it never should have had to happen”.

that my philosophy has always been fallacious,
but I am gracious for the 22 years that I knew you;
even if I was a silent fog: too clouded to listen closely,
if I was the waterfall: too concerned with the edge to observe the quiet curve of your rough river;
I was a giver, but what I passed onto you, was too much strong stuff, and not enough love…

I am reading the skyline as Braille these days,
in hopes that admitting this blindness might help me feel something other than remorse;
let this loss run its course,
let this be our Morse code,
So you always know;
I would deface your memory, were I to speak too clearly,
So I say today; I saw god in the mountain
and my grief is amounting to an empty cave;
I want to be brave to say
“I see you;
I feel you,
I will carry your tattered heart always”

not as disaster splattered in Rorschach train-track intentions,
but as dragonflies and crowns;
because you were a prince among men
and you earned your wings
long ago…

I love you Mike; I just need you to know:
I will never forget.

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