Loss

Chuquai Billy

A broken heart has jagged parts when it's torn apart,
Scars like ridges and valleys
Each with its own story of beginning, middle and ending. 
Bits and pieces stitched together like botched emergency meatball surgery. 
So I went home.
Fragrances of summer's morning air drifting through an open window,
Sweetgrass freshly braided and burning sacred smoke that mixes with the sage and corral and tobacco as grandmother sings to the east, the west, the north, the south.
A song to the sisters to heal my poor miserable broken heart.
I planned take you to the top of the World
The Centre of Everything the Black Hills
The place where the Thunder Beings live, 
To the west cardinal point of the Four Directions
The place of the Quest for visions, of quiet reflections.
The sacred place where the foreigners carved craggy faces of their
Four American presidents in the mountainside like symbolic mockery.

Our love would lift in flight like two swans rising together in grace
Blessed by the spirit of the Whirlwind, she who lifts you lightly when you fall in love
Not like her sister the Tornado Wind who spins you like crazy until you cannot stop, and you are dizzy with obsession, and always at her mercy,
She who brings sleepless nights from unrequited love. 
I've died for love over and over like the hero melting alone in the sunset in every film like Odysseus who wandered for ten years 
I return to find you gone like the times we had, the days we laughed, the nights we loved.
Not explosive and bellowing in howls of despair
My deaths are quiet,
A whisper
The end of the story
A fade to black.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *Material should not be published in another periodical before at least one year has elapsed since publication in Whispering Dialogue. *أن لا يكون النص قد تم نشره في أي صحيفة أو موقع أليكتروني على الأقل (لمدة سنة) من تاريخ النشر. *All content © 2021 Whispering Dialogue or respective authors and publishers, and may not be used elsewhere without written permission. جميع الحقوق محفوظة للناشر الرسمي لدورية (هَمْس الحِوار) Whispering Dialogue ولا يجوز إعادة النشر في أيّة دورية أخرى دون أخذ الإذن من الناشر مع الشكر الجزيل

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