majorie
I held your soft, pale hand, it was always so warm but I felt the cold take over.
“Always be kind,” she’d whisper, “but be clever too.”
Even as the words dance through me I can feel you here, if I look up perhaps I’ll see you there, perhaps I’ll hear you talking to me now.
If I didn’t know better.
“Don’t forget your power, you are oh so powerful,” her melodic voice reminded me, “but…but never be so powerful you forget to be polite.”
Her notes swam through my thoughts, a mellow memory that nudged me forward.
I’d think you were talking to me right now.
The cool winds of fall remind me of time together that seemed too small to celebrate, trips to the grocery store that I now hope I remember forever, seemingly insignificant moments that I wish I’d taken photos of or saved receipts from. I should have watched as you signed your name majorie, kept the notes and scribbles.
If I’d known what would be ripped from me, what would be taken and stolen; snatched away as I regret not asking you to tell me stories and tales, regret not demanding to know all your hopes and dreams.
If I didn’t know better. I’d think you were listening to me now.
I once complained and sighed, huffed and muttered but now I know I should have bid you tell me more, asked questions of truths and ambition. I wish I had recorded and had your advice sung to me, asked how to be what you became, how to do what you did.
If I didn’t know better.
Every car ride I hated and the steps back and forth, the journeys I would bleat and protest but I wish I’d asked so much more, asked how to be kind and clever, how to wield my power but still be polite. I should have observed and watched as you were clever, as you offered kindness but remained in power with a polite smile.
I’d think you were still around.
Yet when the sky turns amber, the warm golden glow reminds me of you, reminds me of everything I learnt from you. I hear whispers of you as the Autumn chill flutters passed and my long limbs are cold from the bitter sting and it’s all from you.
It doesn’t matter what happens now, even if something died it is alive within you, you’re alive, so alive.
Every note and word, every key and lyric is a reminder of your touch, of what you were when you were alive of what you did teach me, when I play, when I create it’s like you’re talking to me now.
My delicate touch and the music that runs through me is as if you’re still around, you’re singing to me now. The amber sky and cool air is as if you’re watching me now, you’re still around.
All those dreams you still had waiting, the wishes hidden in closets, backlogged and never quite coming to fruition is now passed down to me. I create and bring to life the fantasies and desires. What I have become I learnt from you, I picked up enough to see that I may know better but you’re still around.
You’re alive, so alive.
You’ll always be alive in my head.
Emily Vierke 