Remember All the Why

I know that when I go

I’m gone.

I know

all my twisting,

all my writhing,

all these undulations,

are no challenge to that truth.

I’ve reaped a whirlwind of rewards

and broken things

to which I am entitled,

but nothing here has changed.

I stay busy

making plans,

crafting signs,

wrapping little packages,

for you, for all of you behind.

They are explosively designed,

though some, for certain, will be duds.

But some will burst and shower down,

here or where you might have gone,

water to bathe with or to sip,

a bit, perhaps, of fairy dust,

a fleeting clarity or joy.

Remember that we loved

and remember all the why.