from the ashes

it was a different experience each time. when my uncle died, i skipped flat stones over the lake where it was decided his ashes wouldn't be sprinkled. my aunt and mother had watched him be cremated, right in front of them, like hell fire.

when my friend jenn died i walked around the downtown where i had come to learn that hardship can't be felt when your heart is dead. i didn't cry. i walked and stared straight ahead, and the birds scattered across the square like they'd heard and were waiting for the bells to toll. she had had a bird tattoo and one day i will feel the same pain when they give me the same one.

pain is a reflex, like so many flat emotions that skip once and then sink to the bottom. love is getting a phone call, and realizing they no longer belong to the earth.

when sarah was lifted from the earth, i was left squinting into the august sun, they say you can't pour from an empty cup.

where does pain go when you can't feel a damn thing?

where is my love, my truth, hiding?