I Still Hear Your Voice

I Still Hear Your Voice

            I still hear it

your voice in the halls

vibrating up through the

floorboards

            calling my name

singing ‘High Flying Bird’

shooing the cat away from

your desk lamp or while you

sewed well-traveled patches

on your quilt

            I still hear it

your voice

your voluminous laughter

echoing in the rooms you’ve

left empty

living-rooms, dining-rooms

dance halls

            and I still hear it

the buzz

of machines in time

with your lungsful

drawing oxygen deep

exhaling in emergency

            it’s always there

the slow outbreath of your last

moment

            an Angel’s soft sigh

you bloomed in freedom

I wither in grief

I still hear it

the sounds of you

                                    especially

when I feel stranded in my joys

            and when I hear it

I look for the rendering

of your

human guise

for a soliloquy

any kind of refrain

I still hear it

            and it kills me

***

Another poem for my dearly departed sister. When I feel the hurt settle in, the reality, the only way I know how organize it is on the page.

I miss you, Big Sister.

In propinquity,

Nic