The Impact of Goodbye

-I-

In all the weelks leading up to it; all

the weeping and the moping and the general malaise-

I could not have imagined how fast it would be over.

When that Goodbye came, it was two things at once:

Flying impossibly slow, turning in the air,

yet

thundering down like an anvil onto a desert's floor, leaving me

with a mouthful of grit and broken shells I mistook for teeth.

I met that Goodbye with my face, my whole body.

I spat that Goobye out, mixed with sand and blood.

It hurt, just like it should. Took it a while to really hurt, but isn't that the way

all

Goodbyes are?

-II-

It left me impaled on metal, that Goodbye did.

Broke my bones, brain sloshing

like a bird hitting a window except it was

my skull instead.  It tore wire and tendon and neuron

and vessle that took years to heal; maybe never,

that

damned Goodbye did. And after all that, it was a badly done

Goodbye. Left ripped, ragged and needing stitches

that created such ugly scars. Left bleeding

ears and blindness from the impact of

that indelicate, unexpectedly rapid

Goodbye.

-III-

So  I came back and looked at that Goodbye once.

Not too many times you can do that; usually just

happens once and you don't get to try again.

I guess I got lucky (because everyone said that

I did). This time, there was no impact. Just a

Goodbye.

Like the last of the summer breezes, just

before they turn too cool to enjoy.  That last first Goodbye was

so cold, January cold. The Indians say "It was a good day

to die." This day was July. This day

was a good day to say

Goodbye.