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  • Writer's pictureRev. Ani

On Your Birthday

Poems From The Porch

The sunrise is finally touching the stark, gray mountain,

lighting it up, silver and white.


I am bundled against the cold

and barely feel it.


Life is crisp and fresh,

pastel-colored stones and green lodgepole pines.


I don't think of you every day.


No, my life is lived in relation to you every moment – –

my one great love.


Everywhere I look,

I am seeing with you.


I'm not searching for you anymore where you are not found,

but that doesn't mean that I am not in denial, at times.


The pain is different now,

not an acute loss of limb,

but a phantom ache that reminds me of the beauty of our love,

and that,

well,

you're still here.

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