Which to choose...

Which is the face I present today?
Strong, tender, angry, sad...
My hand hesitates with so many choices
I hope it lets kindness win.

Answer Me

I wanted to call you today, even though I knew you would not answer.

It's been years, but I kept your number; I see it when I search for the digits of doctors, aunts, uncles and mom.

It's then that I allow myself a moment to pretend I could call and check to see how you're doing.

I picture myself dialing; you answer and we fill one another in on the new course of our lives.

We'd agree it had been far too long since we got together and make plans to meet at your place for dinner.  If it were like old times, I would be cooking while you kept busy, distracted with grading papers, but I wouldn't mind.

I have to remind myself that kitchen now belongs to the people who bought the place. They fill the air with smells that are not yours; but for a moment I can almost taste that chicken you loved to make...the one whose recipe I lost.

I should just forget the number: it probably belongs to some exhausted soccer mom, always on the run and wondering who I am to interrupt her mad rush into the store for milk and toothpaste before her toddler wakes up from his nap.

It is not as if I need to call ahead to see your new home, though it's door is always shut and will not open to me. I know it's yours because it says so in the letters engraved across its face.

I cry awhile, and try talking, but I have yet to hear you answer. I hold my one-sided conversations until I run out of things to say.

I carefully apply my lipstick and quietly kiss the open space next to your name before I leave; admiring how the bright color stands out dramatically against the dark stone.

Maybe one day when the grave yields up their dead you will see it and know I came calling.

Unanswered

Hello?

Am I the only one who feels stuck while the rest of the world rushes by my window?

There they go: busy...capable...full of life...bursting with energy and oozing with possibilities.

I stumble where others move on undaunted, unhindered, unfettered and unconcerned.

My days are unchanging; without drama and the bits that make for amusing stories. In the Book of Living I would not even merit a footnote; boring even to myself.

I want to fill my days with the fire I once enjoyed, but I struggle to lift my arms, my camera, my pen or my book.

...but in my dreams I dance among the tall grasses.

I am wandering over distant green hills and discover hidden glades of bluebells, and the woods reveal the secluded, dappled meadows that hide within their depths.

I listen to the wind as it caresses the leafy treetops; sharing secrets to the Robin nesting there.

Do you only live through dreams now too?

Will you please answer me?

...hello?