The dark clouds fill
the sky of my heart when
a friend dies, lightning bolts
hit indiscriminately, rivers rush
the shores, attempt to wash
away the harbor.

It is a different song of
grief, a barrage of memories
stuffed into a quilted, cotton bag
zipped to keep them
from escaping and getting lost
in the forest.

It is a hike up the mountain
dread of each step, orchestrating
a careful walk.
Don’t fall, don’t tumble, don’t
fly like the barefoot angel
trying to reach heaven.

It is the playlist of songs that
sealed the bond long ago in a
Lincoln Continental convertible
top down, voices screaming in
unison with lyrics that splash
across the universe.