This poem “when Michael dies” is about my close friend who I never met in person yet. I ask for her post-husband visit so we can be animals together, and I would like to comfort her in her grief.
when Michael dies
When Michael dies, freedom
will fly into your life
like a wild wind,
tearing through
canyons, whipping up tornadoes that
disrupt the peace of trees,
making little mammals glance up,
ruffling flowers, petting grasses
into undulating, shining green fur.
Your freedom will be made of questions.
Let me be one answer.
You’ll always have your children.
But with your freedom-energy,
please come to me.
Please find out how our bodies relate
after so long our spirits
have been doing love
far away.
You are good at hopping on airplanes
and making an adventure,
saying yes, choosing the expense of money
over the expense of loneliness and empty wondering.
We’re on earth to hold one another,
not to die without credit card debt.
When Michael dies, please come here,
wherever I am–
please find me.
Hold me for a long time.
On a snuggle couch, in the sun,
in a bed, on a floor, on Parent Earth,
in a car, in a restaurant, in a kitchen–
please find me and teach me
who you are
in a new way.
I expect some truth
I never knew will come to me–
I’m ready.
When Michael dies, you’ll be cut loose
like a lost purple kite
I would like to gaze at for a long time.
Or you will boom into a new shape
which could touch my shape,
or you will become a new animal-type
which I would welcome.
Oh, sweet mammal–
arrive to me.
When Michael dies, you’ll lose
what kept you anchored.
Please sail to me–
help me learn
your unique necessary color
I would never believe
until you rainbowed onto my doorstep.
When Michael dies, as you suffer.
I’ll cook for you
and touch your hair
for as long as you’re interested.
I’ll show you the plants here.
You can rest with me.
I hope Michael lives a long life.
I hope I live longer.