It would be better
Every year, at the end of a long cold night
in June, I write...
A little something new and unheard about you and me,
how much I miss you and this year,
I thought about all the things that would be better,
if you were still here.
The light would be brighter, and the sun
would stay till the end of every day,
not fading, as it does, by mid-morning
blurred by tears.
Nights would be short and warm,
as the dark sky above glittered,
while teardrops held diamonds
and pearls lay on the ground.
The skip would return to my dance,
as my laughter reached the high notes,
staying in the room for longer than
the time it takes to drink a dark coffee.
Christmas, Easter, birthdays,
all of our gatherings, no longer half-full anymore, and long weekends
especially this one in June
would lose their sting,
as life became better with you still here.
I dream of the music you could be playing,
with your mates, the bands and with your nephews,
"your boys" ,
as the light returned to their eyes and pure melodies
to their songs,
as chord echoed through the chambers of our hearts.
The chorus you would sing together,
making you mumma proud as she sits in her front row seat,
clapping, cheering, telling all around her,
“that’s my family…all of them up there!”
The music would be so much better, Hori,
if you were still here.
But I can’t keep on remembering,
only the sadness left behind by you,
nor crying at your grave
and writing to you over and over again,
about how much you are missed,
that, of course we wish you were here still.
But there is this thing I hold in my heart
that I remember each day about you.
At the end of the world,
when all the shades come down,
the sun no longer shines,
as the moon drops from the sky
and all the glitter falls to the ground.
You will be there,
our precious love, a candle in the darkness.
Thank God, at the end of our days we will see you again,
and what could be better than this.
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