As soon as I stopped adding water
to your powder,
I was no longer able to reconstitute you.
You were the memory of a flavor or
of a smell, and I could not bring
you to my mind any longer,
as a sensation in words is just an
intellectual exercise.
My sadness these days is not over you.
You did not even exist in my life.
I will bleach you from my memories,
and you will fade, nameless, faceless.
No, my sadness is for the things I have wanted,
for the happiness that came out for me,
and my delight and my hopes,
that floated me through the day,
like a thousand balloons tied to my bed.
I soared up and up,
in full command of the world below,
and nothing bad could touch me.
I was mighty mighty up on high.
I was in my best element, the air, the wind,
and I felt secure and safe and free.
That same happiness is still in me,
but it seems to be locked away,
and its absence makes the
days seem so dreary and long.
So don't worry about my tears, Shams.
Frustration always makes me cry.
I just need to find where I put that box,
when he startled me and I dropped it.