Essence of Purple

This is the next chapter of my life,

Comfortingly familiar yet so, so wrong.

It is miraculous and at the same time just plain truth:

The dead pester me with their attentions

There might be any opportunity one could dream about

The wine has made me courageous and bold 

I float inside the spaces between molecules

Am I a ghost? 

The night listens

There is surrender 

I have done nothing to forgive.

Dreams aren’t logical the way real life is 

I am wind, and I uncover things – I stir things up.

What is the essence of purple?

He tries to cajole me from within my block of ice 

the dead are all around him 

Is he merely hiding?

I thought if his wings were big enough, he could fly high enough 

It was nothing like that at all 

I cannot help but follow the breadcrumbs dropped for me into this mystery

It swallows every other tiny tragedy:

Forced to swing back and forth, like a demi-goddess pendulum 

All I have to do is surrender: 

There are pieces of his shrapnel embedded throughout my body. 

I have survived him.

I just want to be a part of life.

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