Preservation

"Here one minute and gone the next

 and never coming back." ~ Tom Stoppard

Yes, yes, an absence:

someone failing to appear, ever again.

If that is death --

if that is how we understand it,

percieve it,

if death is an absence

and I never see you again --

why then,

you are dead,

at least, so far as I am concerned. 

No! my heart shouts, I will not have it! I must keep you alive,

in my mind if in no other way.

Details, details, details! I root through my memory for details,

details that will save you from indistinction

and distinguish you from the blurry crowds

once pristine in my mind.

A lanyard, shorts, basketball shoes;

pretzel sticks, a sofa.

There - it all comes back, for a moment.

I can hear your voice if I listen,

I see your face in motion,

at least for now.

Will it someday lose mobility

and become a photo like the rest?

They were once a reel of films; now they are just a yearbook,

a yearbook of voiceless photos that do not do them justice.

It's not that I will be lonely!

I know I will make new friends.

But for now my heart rails against them,

the vibrant, laughing newcomers

who will rise to take your place. 

I know I will come to love them,

as I love you

but oh

I am so tired of letting go

and I'd rather hold on to you forever.