My Bento Box of Memories

 

In my bento box of memories
is the maroon bandana he wore
when he was twelve,
his eyes vulnerable,
nervous,
looking out at a world
that made him dizzy
with too many choices.

There were many walks
in the forest,
but we never did have
that walk by the ocean
we spoke of.

There was that moment
when time slowed,
our eyes met,
his hand raised
in a forever gesture
of farewell.

He made the unbearable choice
that can never be undone,
leaving this world
for a shore unknown.

His brother sang him
a lullabye,
strumming his guitar
bright with Tibetan prayer flags.
He said his brother had loved them
because I did,
so he put one in his casket
and scattered his song with "Om".

And now I am the Lady
of Perpetual Sorrow.
There will be no poem
of gratitude this year,
unless it is thankfulness
that for 32 years,
he graced our lives,
our tribe's magic person.

for Shay's Word List: bento boxes and mystery. I am back home from the Celebration of Life. I am exhausted and managed to pick up a virus. I am glad to be home.