Stones

I

His cremated remains arrived
by mail today in a large box
proclaiming to all what was inside.

No longer ashes
but a box of white stones.
He'd have loved this.

He did lighting for rock bands.
For thirty years he was high.
I so loved his laugh.


II

Ancient markers, primal,
stacked stones announce:
I am here. I have lived.

Patience is required
to attain perfect balance--
in death, I shall give him that.

There is unity and progression
as we each journey our trail. We are
more than the sum of our ashes.


III

The first is love--for that
is our true foundation. Ever
and always--no matter what.

Next is creativity--as we each
tread our own paths, never settling
for the mundane.

Third for wonder. Always seeking
answers. Even when we didn't
know the right questions to ask.


IV

The last pure gratitude for all
my brother was. Kind, loyal,
good clear through.

I know which is which and for now,
they are two by two. Our old house
vibrates with our energy.

As they come to me, I want
to add found rocks for he was layered
and complex. It's not finished yet.


V

Significant, I think. His middle name
was Peter -- of stone. David
means beloved. He was that.

Our dad called me 'rock.' He
always said we were perfect
counterpoints to the other.

For years neither of us
understood that. Then we did.
It made us smile.


VI

I will add more stones
as I think of things or
memory stories forth.

Need to find just the right place--
somewhere as solid as he was.
He'll show me the where.

He still is all around me.
Wrapped around me, something,
perhaps, like a hug.


VII

One will journey to another --
one who ever saw him for all he was
and loved him no matter what.

Some to my children,
yet another shall find a home
in Bethel, NY.

As in life, there is still
enough of him to go around.
He was always more than good enough.


VIII

...
...
...


A few beats of silence
for my mind
has no adequate words.

I look out my window. The sun,
setting in a burst of magenta glory,
says it all.