Monument

3 a week… 2 a week… 1 a week…

Maybe once or twice every month or two…

Maybe once more, come the blue of the moon…

Never.

^ The pattern of the Ever On Word blog.

…

And ‘Never’ is a strong prediction, of course. Never can’t yet be known.

Yet…

…

I keep turning over the thought of trying to make just one more post. A declaration of (non)intent. A formal acknowledgement that I’m aware, I see the space has gone derelict. Maybe a walk through with some of the ghosts. Will and Allyn pointing out this feature and that. ‘Remember when…?’ Luc and Uri ‘n’ ‘em shaking their heads at the crumbling ruin, mumbling judgments…

What can’t be conveyed is the way they’re still with me, the ghosts. The way I dream of them. Dream as them. Even the ones who never saw the light of publication. The ones who (strong word) Never will.

Who even would I tell? Who remains, after so long a silence? Could even the faithful be blamed for falling away? Life happens to us all. Priorities shift. If ever we were important to each other, what of now? I’ve turned my back. I keep it turned.

‘You don’t call.’

I don’t write.

(Not in the way I used to mean.)

And most of you don’t miss me.

…

Sometimes I do.

Miss me, not you.

The ‘I’ that once I was, she is among the ghosts.

These ruins are beautiful, for ‘twas I who built them new.

I will not erase them.

I suppose Time one day will. A technological earthquake, or the like.

…

That will be sad.

…

There’s sadness now, in the way of the graveyard.

But not everything is buried there.

Spirits untethered wander where they will.

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‘Is this goodbye?’

A goodbye as certain as Never.

I do not think I’ll want to speak again.

There’s better for me elsewhere.

…

I’m in a better place.

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