His Softness
What name would survive
had you not stepped into the water
that day? Memory assigned
a separate word, another given,
and the face I’d placed with you
appeared in front of me
fifteen years later, in another
setting, miles away
and still breathing. How
may I honor you
if not by name? I recall
the gray ocean and how
umbrellas struggled in
the wind, and reading
in the weekly newspaper
a month after
that you had never emerged.
Now your name still lies there,
somewhere, under the surface,
unattached yet moving with
the current, and I,
no matter how I strain,
can’t grab it. Time after time,
it slips away. Just slips away.
.* * *
“His Softness” was published in January 2016 in the inaugural edition of MockingHeart Review.
O at the Edges 
Robert, you have a gift for capturing the essence of a topic – creating image and emotion- that is nonspecific enough to allow the reader to slip in between the lines and have a personal experience. I felt that today.
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Thank you, VJ. So much of our experience is universal.
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It really is. You are welcome.
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This stirs up self-compassion for my increasing memory “vacancies” which haunt me with images I cannot pin down with name/date/location … especially like the part about appearance in other places … lots to ponder here!
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Memory is tricky. I had a specific memory of reading an article about someone’s death. And then I saw him in the flesh, years later…
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