You will not find fragments of me
like leaves,
scattered here and there.
You will not miss me
like the pages of a book,
a shadowy smile,
a glint of sun through the trees.
I am none of those things.
I am a vessel full of hope, desire.
I never lost my thirst.
I was always afraid,
always joyous.
I lived in my shoes
and wore out their soles.
I used up the cutlery of my heart,
then ate with my hands.
I never drowned.
I was never full.
I never lost my way.
I kept track of doors.
My loves were glued to my soul.
I never lost them
though they missed me
when I hid in the darkness,
when I buried pain
and refused to let them see.
But I was never late when they called,
and when they slept,
I sang lullabies
and closed the windows to the storm.
Some day,
when I leave,
when the foam of the shore
entices me into the dark currents beyond,
they will find an empty house
full of sun,
with moonlight in the closets,
and a song in the eves,
which I wrote only for them,
and they will breathe me in like air,
and we will stand by the window,
and weep that love stays longer than forever.
Hold my hand my dear ones,
hold my hand.