The Missing Part

There are pieces to this life

that will never be complete,

and one chair that's always empty at the table.

Life has already gone on,

although progression isn't fully linear.

I still put you in every situation.

Human selfishness curses death,

curses fate,

curses outcomes,

And I wonder--

If one or two changes were made,

would we all be happy?

Would we all be alive?

Would dynamics set all the players

on the right course?

Am I thinking in logical terms,

in heart-bound wants,

in lonely girl dreams,

in broken lady cravings,

in yearning spirit desires?

With age,

With time,

sometimes it seems so complicated.

I'm fine,

but maybe I'm not.

You would have been so proud of Andrew.

His art show was amazing. His soul is so beautiful.

I told his mother that you'd have been "geeked" to be there.

You two would have vibed so perfectly.

I wish time had permitted a meeting of artistic minds.

My memory fails me, and all I have is a tape,

a tape--

a tape of our family,

and a tall tale that 5 mos. pregnant with me,

maybe after work,

you shared Around The World In A Day

with a little pink fetus,

with giant headphones draped across your stomach.

I have recipes I'm afraid to try,

a late blooming life that means I won't marry,

and an empty body that cannot sustain life.

I hear you in me,

and imperfectly want to be your copy,

and go one step further

just to realize your family-art dreams.

I was blessed to be your rainbow baby,

and I reflect on that.

I ask myself, often,

"What is my purpose?"

Although you missed graduations,

a wack prom,

heartbreaks,

and my deep dive into Prince--

I feel some kind of kindred thing

when I do my hair,

choose an outfit,

fawn over silver,

dabble in a hobby,

love with all my heart,

give a good hug.

There will always be an empty space.

A lone chair,

That missing call,

Those dusty favors,

A lot of missed chances.

There will always be loss,

But a grand legacy to work with.

The part is mine to grow, and fill...

and honor.