For Steven


For Steven

April 19, 2014

On this dark and weepy day

A fury of pink petals storm against my cheeks

And rain stains my eyes with what I know now to be tears.

This flurried April day you would have been (unbelievably) 40,

That turning point, the gateway to a decade, one of reckoning or regret.

That little joy who touched a rabbit’s ear one Easter day,

Or ran from roosters or cried out from tops of trees. Forty.

You didn’t stay around to watch us grey

And bend and grow quite quirky over tea and buns

How you would have laughed….

And grown a paunch or whiskers or married twice

Or bought a Cadillac and learned to sail.

Beloved son of my beloved friend…

How I have bit my tongue to feel

And pulled the blinds against our grief.

You were such hope, more hope than

My lad ever was.

A flock of aunties drunk with life awaited your arrival,

Paraded through the hallways, made sketches in the dawn.

So many dreams came with you.

So many dreams dashed when you left.

And yet the love endures in strange unspoken bonds.

Know this—my heart bursts with this storm of petals and you are by my side.



About Llyn De Danaan

LLyn De Danaan is an anthropologist and author. She writes fiction and nonfiction. Katie Gale: A Coast Salish Woman's Life on Oyster Bay was published by the University of Nebraska Press. She is currently a speaker for Humanities Washington.
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