Questions

I’m sailing across a wide blue sea. The earth is glittering with lights behind us. We are riding on the back of a big blue whale. This is not a dream. I am floating in the body of water where mothers meet daughters. On the first day of my life , was it the beginning or the end ? Pushed from the canal of eternity, swallowed by your hips, exiting feet first. Was it euphoric, dizzying, sad ? Was my first wail a song you remember ? Did you see me and my tiny baby nose when you died ? Did you remember me at 7, a string of questions like these slipping from my lips faster than I could think? Was it written that you’d die at 58 , on a sweltering day in July ? Was our story written before it began? Do you remember all my toothaches, all my violent fevers ? Were they more yours than they were mine ?  When I wrote songs and stories for you- 6 years before you died- was it some quantum intuition speaking ? An intuition to love you with care; to give you flowers while you were still alive ? Can we remember the future ? Do you have all the answers now, up in eternity ?

When you were alive - did you know of the mice that sleep in flowers ? Did it frustrate you that you passed before you could finish the season of that show ? Can you watch TV in heaven ? Is reality a screen ? 

Can you drink chai where you are ? What sense are still left, my love ? Have you shape-shifted already ? Found a new body to call home, forgotten all about me. Do you miss the taste of salted air by a February beach ? Are you an angel ? Can you talk to god ? What music do they play in heaven ? Do all the great singers have a band ? Lata, D’Angelo, Prince? Can you still hear me sing ? Is it the only thing we have left ? Do you wince when I cry    for    you .

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photo by Takumi Yamakazi