In Remembrance

Last November a dear friend of mine lost her life in a light plane crash. Even as I write, four months later, after memorials and hymns and prayers, I cannot believe she's really not dancing on this earth.
Peg Noonan was a graceful spirit. She was a spiritual daughter of the muse Terpsichore in her love of dance. She was a teacher of NIA, and Zumba. At sixty-four she was in great shape, and seemed to love working out almost as much as she loved dancing.
But the thing that stayed with everyone who met Peg, was her vivacious love of life. She made friends with everyone she spoke to. And those of us who were fortunate enough to be her friend, knew that she was always with us in spirit whether she lived on the east coast or the west.
There was one small consolation to her death: she died with the sweetheart she'd finally found after more than twenty years of being divorced. They'd met only months before, and planned to marry this year. I did not know him, but I pray for him with my dear friend, that they may have, after all, a sweet life together.
Attempting to come to terms with Peg's death, I wrote the following poem which I leave here, in memorial.

For Peg
copyright 2011, Adriana Díaz

In my grief
I think of you
suspended in
an interminable
cessation
of being.
There's not a word
not an adjective,
or verb,
not an expletive,
nor a bleep.
There's no phone call,
or cyberspace correspondence.
No questions.
No answers.

This silence is a coffin
we share.

You are no longer breath,
nor graceful step.
Yet chassé you shall
on the memories
of dance floors we knew.

Our last lunch together,
sitting on the hem of the ocean,
the Pacific sun eavesdropping
on our buoyant words;
I see you there
as if I could touch the red curl
of your hair, or
hold your gentle hand.

If I had known you were
to fall from the sky
like Icarus from the sun,
I'd have prepared a field
of wool, dense as clouds,
and a bed of flowers,
fragrant and supple.
I'd have summoned birds
to give you wings and
bring you to rest
in slow, descending reverie.

But you enjoy now
the spacious affection
of stars.
You, aglow in
the cosmic landscape
beyond our understanding,
will visit Earth in
the echo of your laughter,
the remembrance of your
kind words, and the
persevering joy of your
vivacious spirit.

We, still planet-bound souls,
celebrate the grace of your
diaphanous presence,
sorrow's gravity dissolved by
the transcendent warmth of your
radiant smile.

Too late to say goodbye,
dear friend,
I lay my voice across the page
to say, at least, adieu.