You were gone [for Marta R.] (Day 1141)

I woke one night and you were gone. 

Sitting upright, covers heavy over 

my drawn-up knees—you were gone. 

The darkness was a comfort, and I knew 

you were in it, lingering nearby in case 

I reached for you. But you were gone. 

And, as blue faded to gray, a new day 

rising like mist from the grass, I breathe in, 

breathe out, and you were gone. Sunlight 

crept into the garden, gilding the trees 

from the tips of the highest branches, 

sliding down the papery bark. 

It glistened, and you were gone. 

A hummingbird visited the feeder outside 

your window, wings a blur, tiny beak piercing 

red plastic flowers—he knew no better—

and you were gone.

Gone were your African hills, glazed with green 

and veiled in a violet haze. Gone the beasts, 

large and small, like your laughter, lurking 

in shaded corners for so long. 

Gone were the blues of Biscayne, and the dreams 

of driving north, and north where you will be 

remembered long after you are gone. 

Those you adored, the luckiest among us, 

shoulder the burden of your blessings, compelled 

to carry on, to love as you loved, to protect 

what you cherished, because you are gone.

Last night, I dreamt I woke, and you were here 

again, voice a warm ribbon of light, making little 

of the distance between us. And warmed by 

a blazing sun, I asked for wisdom (never in short 

supply where you dwelled) and you said: 

I am gone, and I can hear you. 

I am gone, and I can see. 

The shadows and the lights 

are one. In the depths, where 

warm water grows cold, 

I am the shaft of daylight 

that guides you to the surface.

And awake, knees drawn up beneath my blanket’s 

weight, I felt the fluttering loss behind my eyes.

This is a spring you will not see—this tree, this bird, 

this flower. The golden light drenching the leaves 

belongs to a word world where you no longer are.

Grief is a thing that swims, and surfaces from time 

to time, to breathe a cloud, inhale love, submerge again, 

and all this is well, and all is well. And still, when I woke, 

you were gone.

(c) 2020, by Hannah Six

On Sunday, March 1, 2020, I learned my beautiful friend, Marta Reilly, 

had died suddenly at her home in Florida. I will treasure her memory 

and wisdom forever, and will love and miss her always.