The 663rd night.
Six hundred and sixty three sunrises have risen on this emptiness.
Six hundred and sixty three sunsets since your last breath.
I wait for nothing, for no one.
I don’t need to live and I don’t need to die.
Each moment is what it is, lacking you.
I will never see you again.
Son, I put your ashes in the creek, in the river, in the ocean.
I put your ashes in the air, across the face of this earth,
And some sit still in this house where you will never return.
I count the days since you left,
And I write the number somewhere on my body,
On my flesh.
I wash away one number and I add the next one,
One digit higher than the number before.
I will never hold you again. My son.
Days and nights pass in this emptiness.
I wear my grief like a crown; I am the king
In this empty place, my reign will be a long one.
Six hundred and sixty three sunrises have risen on this emptiness.
Six hundred and sixty three sunsets since your last breath.
I will never see you again.
---
That I might awaken to the blessing of knowing my own true nature, and that I might be able to use this knowledge to help others and to help the planet.
---
The 663rd night. Clear sky.
And stars? Endless. Uncountable.
A waning moon. Cold.
Beautiful beyond words.
Oh, how I wish my son was still here
To share it.
---
Kindness brings a special goodness to both the person giving and the person receiving.
---
Cold gray
Winter day
The world is lovely
Anyway
James Lee Jobe
John Lee Hooker - Hard Times
I don't think about time. You're here when you're here. I think about today, staying in tune.
John Lee Hooker
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Freeing oneself from words is liberation.
Bodhidharma
Note: On the poems that the length of time since my son died, it's a lot longer than 663 days. It's well over 2700 days, really. I just do more revisions as time goes.
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James