The Altar in my Soul

a prose poem by Joy Murray

I built an altar in my soul for you.  I adorned it with things you made, things I made, dried flowers, sea shells, stones, vessels and wishes.  The altar has infinite space because I built in my imagination where there are no limits.  The sacred space grows til I can no longer grasp it all.  I conjure you up.

There is a meadow of wild flowers, so bright with color that we are silenced by the beauty as we walk hand in hand.  There is a pavilion built on a pier over dark waters.  We dance there.  We shed our broken bodies and slip into a shared dream, dancing alone, twirling together.  You are so close to me, then you are so far away I can’t see you.

I know you’ve gone back to your real life.  The one I have no part in.  The one where you work so hard to survive the illness you don’t deserve.

I sit with this altar in my wheelchair.  I pour water for the ancestors onto parched ground and wonder which of us will be among them first.

I light all the candles in my soul and roll into my day, knowing in my sad old bones how far away you’ll always be.

I wheel my way into my life, awed by the strange, broken beauty that colors all of my days.

~~~

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