When I went to the grocery store one day this week, the rack of greeting cards caught my attention. I immediately thought of choosing one for my life-long friend Lucille. This has happened many times in the months since she died, and each time I feel a sense of loss. Given how unhappy she was in the nursing home, and knowing that the circulation in her legs was so bad she was going to have to face the amputation of her feet, I knew she no longer wanted to live, but looked forward to going home to God. Still I miss her. And I miss being able to buy cards for her. Cards were one of the few things she still enjoyed and I enjoyed sending them. Until that day in grocery store this week I hadn’t realized what a gift it was to me to be able to do that. Being unable to buy and send her a card, I was moved to write the following poem:

Reaching
—for Lucille Williams, 1910-2007
The house is quiet.
I’ve not heard a single footstep overhead
Since early morning.
Outside the day is drenched.
Raindrops glisten on bare branches
And pock the river as it flows.
I’m lonely for you, Lucille.
You left this earth months ago and still
I write this note to you.
It’s not that I have much to say.
Snow is melting on the river’s far bank
Exposing patches of bare earth.
Mist blurs the mountainside.
Words not significant enough to span
The distance between our worlds
But adequate
To reach from heart to heart
When love propels them.

© Margaret Robison 2008