Look at that photo.
This family is my family
The mirror,
that mirror now shares more than my reflection
hung on my wall it holds the light of those who are now long departed
the silver backing
the curve of its glass
displayed the faces of those I love.
The warming pan stands sentry in the corner,
the heavy copper weight of the pan
that I now have
stood in my dinning room
the curtains I looked in through as an adult
hoping for something familiar
waiting for the past to snap back into place - but it didn't
the air there now is different
the space is occupied by other people's memories
instead of the warmth of my loved ones.
If I could reverse time
might I just sit amongst the familiar hub-bub of an afternoon
watching the dust dance in the soft light,
listening to the cadence of those familiar voices
the ones I hear in my sleep
feeling the solid reality of being
a small part of something greater
mentioning nothing of the years to come
not warning them of the fading times ahead
just to simply be there
a witness again
to this orchestrated moment
this day where everyone was there.
Time is a road
long enough for some; not long enough for us
a road I've marked on a map
which I carry in my heart
its destination is now the stars
the stars I look up at
like the mirror I look into
the same mirror they looked into
and for a heartbeat - I feel them there.
