November 2012

Sometimes we deal in emotions
Trying to place blame
Trying to figure out our ways
And just trying to count instances
Explaining how we spend our days
I’ve been through all that
And it really doesn’t matter
That battles over isn’t it
And still the missing sometimes shatters
Still waters gather and they just make their own their own weather
Close my eyes and I’m in a night
Sometime in a November
Before election days
And I miss you
Things could have been different
As always things could be
Grown child never as grown is not really seen
We are always like a child
In some kind of way
And those moments hit us in the absence
And I miss you
I know there are no questions
Not where you are now
And everything is understood
I don’t un bury those things that wonder
And I don’t dig up old bones
To pick with you
Guess I’ll always be the good girl
And the first born
And always just like you
Sometimes in some way
But on some nights
When I close my eyes
I’m at a house in the dead of night
And it’s November
Before Election Day
And I hear your rants
And so glad you can’t see the future
Because where you are there aren’t questions unanswered
And I know you know
The question of love and missing
Is complete
As love and missing should be
Some things could have been different
And sorry is sorry they weren’t
Lessons in life usually are later learned
And sad little embers
Come back and burn
Your laughter and tears
Your unwavering stances
And misunderstandings
Doesn’t matter
On that still night in November

” I think we are always five years old, in the presence or absence of our parents”- Sherman Alexie

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