[This is my entry for the Iko Africa Christmas Writing Challenge]

Dear Mary,

I think by now you must be somewhere resting above the cotton clouds,

among the heavenly pantheon,

the celestial light of God before you.

I know by now, you must have willed me good fortune—

I, who knew your last name and the last name you called before the long sleep

It’s midnight 

and I’m sitting by the window sill 

watching the sky mourn.

I touch the glass, 

feel the cool kiss of rain 

falling in heavy drops,

as my mind trails back to summer,

to the path where we walked towards our becoming;

wandering the winding riverbank,

through lush maze gardens,

misbehaving in the woods—

the soft rustle of leaves in the wind, 

breathing in the freedom of youth.

I believe by now, you must know that I still haven’t moved on,

the crashing of plates,

the roar of thunder—

they echo my ache.

My heart scatters like red confetti—

same confetti that once spread the bedsheet where we first made love.

Dearest, it’s Christmas 

and I promise—

I strung the tinsel, the wreaths and garlands,

and lit the giant Christmas tree,

unboxed the lone gift from Santa.

I plucked the rose petals from our garden,

held them close and breathed them in

because you were the scent of my soul.  

Even in this great mortal separation

the severing of our sacred bond—

I would still reach for your hand 

and hold it in mine.