Around and around we go.  One year.


Imagination calls for bodies, the sacred trilogy, naked, clean sheets, soft down, and sweet sounds of shallow sleep.  Wake to cries, then to laughter.  Bodies roll, bodies touch bodies.  Curious eyes take in the world fresh and safe.  Parallel to the womb, but better.  The etch sketch of the mind depicts pictures of love unwoven within the fabric of life undone.  Life recalled from happy lives of friends, from deepest desires, from broken hearts.  A picture perfect postcard of an unmanifested reality to salvage forever.


Life lost, Leif lost, vanished into the shadows of absent memories and blooming imagination.  In the mind’s eye, seeing body walking, clumsily, reaching out to touch familiar hands, looking for recognizable faces, grinning, loving.  Feet kicking, growing into crawling, walking…  where would he be right now?  What would he tell me if he could speak?  Would he speak?


Life lost of what the heart hoped for and the mind imagined, what it still imagines, in times of stillness, when centuries collapse and decades decay.  Who was my little hummingbird?  Why has he come to perch on my branch at all?  The Father, The Holy Ghost, and the Mother, remembering.  Swimming upstream of watery memories, tiny icebergs melting away.  How can I forget?


I can’t even recall the exact date.  I am numb in remembrance.  Flashes of dead flesh amidst a blur of a fast rolling film.  I cling to whatever my mind decided to save…shrapnel from the biggest explosion of my life.  I try to put it all together, but it’s still missing pieces.  The masterpiece never to be completed.


One year of tears that could flood the world, screams that created terrible earthquakes, and a billion unanswered questions.  I am still looking for the missing passengers of the train that was derailed.  Happy passengers, with minds full of bubbles.  Where have they gone, those missing pieces?  I am not a whole.  Will somebody tell me who burst all my bubbles?


Three hundred and sixty-four days of confusion.  No crossroads, no path either.  A desert, large and barren.  Not even a mirage for thought.  Many hallucinations from a stranger’s past.


Searching, searching for directions to elsewhere.  Anywhere but here.  Anywhere but lost.  Reading coordinates in Braille and following the sun, every new rotation, searching.  Waking to find yet another rise and get a step further away from the crash.  If I follow his shadow, will it devour me?


Promised land on the horizon with lush green laughter that may just quench the deepest thirst.  Burning feet, and I keep walking.  Further away and closer to.  Shadow.  Chasing my shadow.  Cycles conclude, and rain pours soulfully, effervescing a little more than a bountiful supply of life.


Never lost along with memories, never lost with the missing pieces, those passengers of myself.  Hope, the glue that somehow kept it all together, despite of Death, the bludgeon that broke it all apart.


It chewed me up and spat me out.  Standing firm on shaky legs, what can I now recover from all that was lost, besides a photo on inside of my medicine cabinet?  Month six ultrasound.  If memories are all that we have, then where do we go to find them?


I wake in the middle of the night to a soft movement in my belly.  Body memory, recalling his body.  Phantom memories summoning a ghost.  Maybe that’s how he’s meant to be saved; alive.  Before Death cast its hungry shadows.

 Imagination calls forth…


Blurry, as if behind a veil, he stands.  Lean and tall, with piercing blue eyes.  Deer eyes.


It rolls in slowly, suspended mid air.   We hold hands and take a deep breath.

Incoming storm of bubbles.





2 thoughts on “Effervescing

  1. Effervescence is one of my favorite words. You are one of my favorite writers, and favorite people too. All I can bring to this is the release of the heat of being a fervent individual, a bubble that finally lets go, and is released to join the sky. Leif has rearranged his life and ours. You have united us in ways both tolled, told and untold. I thank you for all you have led us through in this evincing trajectory of life, death and life again. How do we bear the unbearable and yet while remembering, remain, reframe and re-rain? Our tears are many, but one. You are never a-lone. We are all-one. ❤

  2. tears and love for you dear ania. thank you for sharing your story and finding words for it so i can touch in and connect. deep respect and gratitude for you and you being in my life.

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