I don’t believe
That a soul stays trapped in a body
After the diaphragm stops
And the heart becomes still
But
You are buried
Down the hill,
Through the trees,
Over the leaves
And I find myself going there
To speak,
To get the last week
Off of my chest
To wish you the very best
To ask God to take care of you
For me
I don’t know what Heaven is like
But I’m starting to think that maybe we are the ones
For which others should be mourning
Down here
Where we make up love as we go
Where answers are always just a best
Guess
Your head
Pressed against my chest
In greeting
Stays with me
Because I cling to the tangible
Even if it’s missing
