I get lost a lot. Maps don’t help. Instructions
perfectly clear upon the hearing turn nebulous
upon the driving. I went to an expert famous for
rerouting inept minds.
“Tell me the one place,” he said, “where
you were never lost.”
“My college campus.”
“It’s a circle.”
This year I bought a new calendar: all green circles
on cream pages, no squares anywhere.
Six circles surround one center circle,
and all seven orbs gather inside one circular whole.
I look at this calendar often. It feels good.
Fourteen circles ago, the news landed in my world.
You: ill. The end: near. I called. We talked.
Seven circles later, you called. We talked.
You said the flowers were beautiful,
described their colors as observed by
your artist eye. We covered our usual
subjects: the children, life, art. I said, “You are very
important to me.” You said, “It’s important to say
these things while there’s still time.”
And then we said – we had to say – goodbye.
That night I walked into the circle
in front of my house, a grassy diameter
harboring young and old trees within.
The half-moon rose high, encircled
by one, unbroken Zen brushstroke of cloud.
Another seven circles passed, and
you slipped away.
Text, copyright Ysabel de la Rosa, All rights reserved.