The Missing

It's almost taboo to discuss, but sometimes, it feels like those who have died are simply on vacation or living in another city. It's unreal to believe that the sun still sparkles on the water, cars still clog the freeways and people still line up for a mocha latte when our loved ones can't.

Are they in a better place? At the very least, the pain and confusion is over. And we are left with the beauty shared while they were here.
.......................................................................
there are holes in every life, standing
empty like blank pages in a scrapbook

soft dreams of those who did not wake
murmur through our memories
but we only catch snatches of the conversation

ghosts move just beyond our field of vision:
we used to share every secret, every
steamy stolen night, every
sunny walk along the lakefront, every
frozen pay phone drunk dial --
now who can you call crying at midnight?

goodbyes pile up inside
baggage left unsaid and unresolved
and yet, if you wake up breathing, you win
another morning, another
beginning, another chance
for the next hello.