To Heidi

Yesterday was the day you were born
so I wore your favorite color
and walked by the sea--
Imagined we were in South Africa,
imagined you were only hiding.
I talked of butterflies,
that simple, white-winged inspiration
I followed home
to your wedding and then
your funeral.
In the church
I talked of your love
and begged those flowers
in those fragile, porcelain vases
to disappear.
One by one we stood
and said:
She was our butterfly
so full of light.
We sat on our knees
and bartered off every part of ourselves
for your breath, your laugh.
Cancer, they said.
And then, Wait.
To a woman with cancer
they said, WAIT.
I'd run to your arms
when I heard your voice in our hallway.
"Oh, Swee-tie" you'd say.
or something like it,
none of us could ever get it quite right.
You were 43 and fiercely, fearlessly happy
and when you walked into the room,
so were we.

Written 11/12/07