Soul-Breath

The heat poured down in dry heaves, bouncing off
the tops of my sandal feet and forming
thick skeletons, dancing and pounding at my skull.
Thoughts of a year ago swimming cool dreams through
the hard, cracked memories.
You both look so much stronger than anyone did that day.
I will never forget the feeling of waking up and wondering
if he was in our world yet.
The quiet of the red hook street like a watchdog, ready to pounce.
The sound of the ambulance forming itself into the tip of a sword
sinking my heart,
for knowing what it was doing to the both of you.
All those warm, balmy nights we spent with you,
on your rooftop watching fireworks,
the ebb and flow of grief, food, inconsistent laughter.
The year since, full of pride, and desperation,
promises and new beginnings.
Back to the heat and the grounded feeling of the cemetery.
I stood with my legs wrapped around a dead, amber thorny weed.
It let me know I was there, and we were here in this moment.
Prayers in Hebrew, I clutched my rock-
the one I had been saving for over a decade from the Irish Sea in Howth,
one of three I still had, infused with all the mystic,
mingling love from those times
to these times, to both of you, my other family, to now.
I caressed the irish-jewish equation and infused it with all the gratitude and love
I could muster.
For you. For him. For the one who comforted me
when I was exhausted with comforting you.
The story of the first breath, not taken
remains still but then moves in air form with the stories of all of us,
happy with you,
celebrating with you, smiling and drinking and laughing him into existence.
He did so much without even making a scene.
For new life, his life was given for a distant, more grounded happiness
that we all share
every day like a carnival ride through the trees and the skies.
We placed our rocks, we ambled out through dusty paths and drove away.
The girl in her belly, double fortune as they say,
will bring him back to us---
the rocks settle still in Dublin Bay.

--for Gabriel Neshama Derris, 6/29/09

~ M. Lucia