Where were you on that day?

What form did her fall take?

A single drop, or a thousand herky-jerky volts.

I can feel you palpable panic. See you then –

your child, your little girl

and you helpless to help.

You could not have known then that this would be forever.

That what you thought only a bad dream would become

a full-on night-terror. Only now it’s night after night, isn’t it.

A sweat you can’t shake off.

It leaves you cold.

It should.

Tell me about ‘God’s Will’ and I’ll spit pure bile.

Ironic, no, for if anyone is closer to God it is she –

pure, unspoiled, innocent, touched

experiencing great ecstasies –

I know, I have been there, I have seen.

Such things she-I could tell you.

Neither though ever will.

This is just a day. This April 19th.

Meaningless anyway.

Manmade and arbitrary; some mathematical construct - time.

It is no more than cycling, cycling, cycling.

So we cycle.

We then have not then arrived at such morbid anniversary

but moved farther away as it recedes on the horizon with each passing year

With each April 19^th.

Like my private May 8^th – my private rebirth – let it fade, love.

Easy to say; harder to swallow.

I know.

What you have then is Now.

A series of moments strung together like colored lights.

Now is the time; the time is now.

Do not waste it: Do not look back.

*for evander, for elizabeth.