In Denial.

My head knows it's true.

Here are the words. On a brass plaque. 

The nails rusting.

The wood cracking.

So it's not a new cross.

But it is a recent fact.

9 months old.

The grass is growing in the red clay

where his body is

buried

below the roses

I placed there 

today.

So I can touch 

and see

and smell

the truth 

that he is gone.

I hear it with my knowing 

head.

My heart on the other hand

is a skittering butterfly

dragging a ripped wing

 of torn silk

in a frenzy of searching 

for him

somewhere

anywhere

beyond

the truth.

Drowning

spluttering 

in the 

wound

of 

he 

really 

is

gone.

But my gut

held in that deep bowl of

 bone

of

 intuition 

is telling me 

another

truth.

And it has been warning me for weeks now.

Cramping

griping

holding on

to the 

shock

re-verberating

in each cell,

exploding

leaking

letting go,

in a rage of

NO. 

It

won't 

digest 

the fact 

that 

he 

is 

gone.

At least I know now

and it is a 

relief

to admit it.

I'm in denial.

My head

 knows it's true

my heart

 is a suppurating lake

but

 my gut

doesn't believe it.

 And with good reason,

but not a rational one.

Why would I want to 

assimilate

an unbearable

truth?

You can't fly 

with 

only 

one

tattered 

wing.