That Day
That day you ceased to walk this world
The sun shone in a sky bright with blue.
People roamed the streets with smiles and spirits high.
Cars cruised, considerately slow, and conversations buzzed,
a hum of voices light and filled with the happiness of an afternoon unexpectedly lovely.
We who loved you walked that day, numb, dumb with disbelief,
having left your side in final farewell.
How could the world be so, without you?
Life so casual under loss so crushing, imagined only in nightmares so dreaded;
depths of pain so feared, and in every way, exceeded.
How so, God? How so?
Did the world with its bustle know how deeply we had drowned?
Know from the way we strolled without seeing?
The way we spoke, hardly hearing?
The way we ate, barely tasting?
Time was stopped
With a belly howl for that handle to crank back each minute that took us from you.
Please, oh please!
Take us back to the moments before, and to each moment before that,
To when all was happy and constant and whole.
To when you walked this world,
strong, sure, with a swagger almost arrogant, yet in service,
and always with deep love for us.
Your departure, a wall halving the world into two: ours with you, ruthlessly ended; the other barren, desolate, and without, on that afternoon so lovely.
How, oh how, to face the ruins? To rise and rebuild?
It would not be that day.
~ M.L. Roble
