Friend

I was going to send flowers,
but then I decided to give you something else:
this empty vessel to fill.
This used, passed over, chipped,
and re-gifted space --clear as dawn.
This vase
to house the bright moments that will come.
This home for small beauties and treasures.

The sorrow, we know, is that you don't always
foresee what tomorrow will bring.
You open the door
to brief joy
or drowning grief.
You feel strange,
even to yourself.
And what was certain yesterday
is no longer certain
today.

Steady,
this vase,
to house small,
beautiful moments in time
for as long as we can keep them.

Steady,
even empty,
to remind you of the big, bright tomorrow
it cannot possibly contain.
Those bright days are the kind we wish for
in the seconds before dreaming
and the moment we awake.

This vase,
open clarity
that we miss in our own mind and soul, at times.
But, open clarity, we will see again.
This vase, tomorrow, maybe
filled with wildflowers that grow where they aren't supposed to:
joy that peaks around unseen corners when it was long lost.

We deserve more than flighty joy and dying flowers,
but we can fill this vase with anything we want.
And wait for the sun to rise,
light shining through the glass to fill the empty space.

LA, CA (9/22/14)