An Elegy for Z

He glided from the world
before he landed in your arms -
and your wax-winged dreams
melted under the blistering silence
of his arrival.

Our sobs launched into space,
followed his swift-fleeing soul,
beat their wings on the doors of heaven
and sank again,
draping themselves in heavy billows
over chairs and counters and the foot of the bed.

Our hearts fluttered at his still-warm skin;
His perfect form, his perfect peace,
incompatible with our soaring grief.

You asked what you were supposed
to do after this,
with his memory always a shadowy figure
floating at the side of your vision,
a wispy ghost of would-have-beens.

Fill your lungs with air
Lift hands to the sky
Let the wind whip at your hair
Cry.
Scream.
Dance.
Live.

Till that feathery hope that’s perched in your soul
begins to sing again.