You carried me through the years
in your strong unfaltering arms.
The gleam in your eyes never once faded -
my little home that was always with me
We went Calgary to Calvary.
We saw northern lights from planes at awful times.
We saw poverty and gluttony -
though we’d always be alright
Tattoos and stamps on a passport are one and the same.
They sing the songs of our life -
The stories we never thought we’d need to tell
kept us warm at night.
You were twenty eight when charlotte came.
I still remember speaking or singing about the miracle,
to anybody who would listen.
We got ready to tell those tales after all.
I had this image in my head -
stroking her hair while you talked about the time in Hanoi
or Luxembourg or Montevideo
as she drifts off to sleep.
You were twenty nine when she died -
I think a part of me did too.
We went back out to Moscow then transsiberian to Ulanbataar.
We didn’t speak as much on the journey that time.
We flew back home at fourty -
Your mother was ill and your arms were strong enough for another.
You carried her too. Hand delivered straight to the gods.
I still swear i heard them thank you.
I think that trip afterward to Cambodia was the last one, no?
I struggle to remember the order.
After all that time, the world felt smaller -
and i think i felt done.
Adventure on the home front you called it -
an unexplored horizon
that doesn’t take days to reach.
I gardened, you read, we fed ducks and watched the families in the park.
When you started forgetting, we said it was age -
or that we left our minds in prague.
Oh, now you can’t argue I must be honest;
you didn’t lose the keys that night in june, I did. I found them in my bag after the fight.
When you called me Charlotte again, I think I realised -
It was time for my arms to get stronger.
For the first time since charlie left, I had to carry you -
and you were heavier than I remembered.
When the time came, there was a moment -
a few seconds when you saw me again.
You called me old and we cried together,
cried until you were cold.
The nurse transcribing this; I think you’d like her.
She reminds me of Charlotte. She has those same inky brown eyes.
If you listen to the doctor, this may be my last letter -
before I take the train away, another adventure.
You loved me well, and I hope I did the same.
Give my best to Charlie.
I miss you everyday,
and I know I’ll see you soon