The softest yellow swaths of morning fell through the bedroom window.
I followed each ethereal line from doorknobs and floorboards infinitely up and out over the barn, past Rich Mountain, and across the Blue Ridge.
I imagined her there, laid easy in a soft mess of clouds. Chubby little cheeks smushed upward. Tiny belly rising and falling, surely causing these golden sheaths to shape-shift before me. I closed my eyes to follow the feeling moving, growing, burning inside, breathing her deep, allowing all of her to pass through.
She had born witness to it all– held gently within hips, uterus, ovaries– nurturing this flicker of light to life. The tiniest feet, hands, belly, all brought into existence in this warm cocoon. What a thing. Breathing and forming, reaching like little seedlings tucked safely within fertile spring soil. Her heartbeat so soft and steady, echoing inside. A rhythm I can’t un-hear.
If only I’d known sooner…
If only I’d been able to say…
Well maybe she wouldn’t live close-in with the stars up there. Maybe she’d be lying here beside me, watching the world’s waking. Eyes dancing, studying the details of me, of everything all at once.
I breathe her out, allowing my internal fire to catch memory of her fleeting life-song, seemingly imprinted into everything these days, send her back out into the morning… Allowing me to sink back into myself once more, without a physical her, yet carrying her gentle spirit close-in all the same.