Breathing

a memorial, by Bob Ludwig

Today, fifteen years ago today,
At about four in the morning,
Sarah left her body behind,
And continued on her journey.

I found her remains, back then,
An hour later, the sun not yet up.
And forgot to breathe for a while,
As my journey took another path.

Nowhere to go, everywhere was empty.
Breathing started again, I guess,
And I guess I woke up Maria,
And we sat there and cried a bit.

I called her doctor, I called her dad,
I called my mom, I called neighbors,
And then I lost my voice for a while,
And, maybe, part of it is still gone.

And the path I am on goes on and on
And much of it, lately, is breathless fun,
Even though I'm off center, and,
Perhaps missing parts others have.

And the breathing still happens, usually,
Although once in a while a sharp memory
Springs up in front of me ... gone ...
And I forget to breathe, forget to talk.

And here I am talking, somehow talking ...
Without moving my lips, without breathing ...
And thinking about this path, and of others ...
Those who travel alongside ... breathing.