by Janine Phillips
What a way to end the day
under a Samhain moon,
with a bottle of whisky
-until now untapped-
and the wind whipping
like a Mohawk Valley Monsoon.
I didn’t get to say good bye
(again)
but that’s okay.
We said farewell three years ago
then kept in touch anyway.
We snuck secret stories
when no one thought you would.
You said, “I love you, daughter,”
and that you’d hug me if you could.
“Don’t tell,” was your mantra,
so I didn’t say a word.
But now you’re gone
and I’m okay.
Isn’t Life absurd?
They kept you locked
inside your heart
pretending it was for good.
But now you’re gone
and a rising moon
hides behind clouds and woods.
That shot of whiskey
is poured and downed,
and a song is sung
and the pain is drowned
as I search through photos and memories
in this emotional lost and found.
What a way to continue your journey
under a Samhain moon,
with a shot of whisky
shared online,
my grief blown away
by the monsoon.
Janina Grey 