God, that is what i want to say; just God...
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Because from the depths of my disbelief i believe
and yet here i am alone, standing only barely without you,
having so carefully dug your grave, i wrapped you in
my favorite and your pink pashmina, the one you covered
with your calico-tortoise fur, the one you took to as a child
takes to a blanket - suckled, nibbled, so loved.
What then to do without you - your soft weight on my lap,
your yellow green eyes the self-same color as my own,
looking at myself, seeing you there, reflected in the iris.
How then to carry on through these dark and dank days
without your soft and velvet warmth, to no purr no clink nor
chime of bell, just the howling sound of my cry as it echoed
about the house, as he told me you had died, as i cried a thousand
times as i said No and No and No, knowing it all too true
drowing in alligator tears, knocking myself stupid to be so handicapped
Who but you could have been or be so loved. What i write is trite.
What i write is true. What i write is love and love and love,
and what i write is you. Tell me now, Does God hear this primal scream?
Where is he on this day and if here he be, then let him bless not me
but you - you with your deep and night-glow eyes, you with your
leaping great surprise, you with your velvet paw in mine.
Love, Evgenia mine you are already so very missed.
11/13/05 - for Evgenia.