The Mirror

Remind me who I am.
As I stand in front of your glossy smooth barrier,
I plead with you.
Show me, tell me about me. The real me. 
The one I used to know.
I remember knowing, I know that I knew 
but I can't recall what it was.
All I see is tired lines and a glass measuring cup.
But you know.
 I know you do.
And if I can just be a tiny bit brave,
and reach.... a little bit deeper
Into this long-forgotten well, an under-used sanctuary,
I will likely fall in.
But coming up on the other side with glorious gasps of air
I throw my head back and laugh out loud.
I can't believe I'm on this side of the mirror now.
And I remember everything.
I see what you see.
I know who I am.

Funeral Sandwiches

There are plates of food we will not eat. 

People want, not to drown grief as much as they want to fill it up. 

But        grief             is a hole. 

An emptiness 

where there once was life and light,

 now, a void.

 And I understand why people bring food.

 What else can they do? 

But for me, I think an offering of ashes over sandwiches 

and blank emails with no subject line are my preference over casseroles.