I Choose

 

Maybe I write too much,

When others have moved on?

Maybe I talk too much,

Creating noise where silence should reign?

I cannot tell you how to feel,

As much as I cannot tell myself

To stop feeling.

If I could,

Would I?

Because not feeling,

Not talking,

Not writing,

Would make my memories of you

Dimmer,

Lesser,

And that would crater my heart.

So, I choose to feel,

I choose to talk,

I choose to write.

And with every word,

Every letter, every syllable,

And every sound,

My memories of you warm me,

Guide me,

Comfort me.

A world without you,

A world with no memory of you,

Is as far from comfort

As hope is from despair.

So, I write, I talk, and I feel

So that I don't forget you;

Not any part of you.

Because I am you.

I am of you, and from you.

Your love created me

As much as any DNA.

I know you are not here,

But that doesn't mean you are gone.

I know that your voice

Will now only ever whisper in my mind.

I know that although not present,

Your presence will always surround me.

Because a person only dies,

When we stop calling their name;

And so, I choose to write, to talk, and

To say your name,

Because I choose to keep you,

Living in my heart.