Love cannot be buried beneath rubble or destroyed by flames of fire. Love enters into our souls and stays with us beyond all years and lives with us in an eternal embrace. The Japanese writer Haruki Murakami put it this way:
“What we call the present is given shape by an accumulation of the past.”
Love accumulates inside us, growing stronger with every year of remembrance.
A book to remember a beloved husband, killed in the Twin Towers, called Where You Left Me, is a beautiful tribute to love.
--Carolyn Forche
I can see you descending.
You step just on the toes
of your shoes like a faery,
like horses doing dressage,
touching the earth with only
the fine points of their hooves,
as I dabble with cleaning
solution, Tide for the laundry,
in the house where you left me,
after the rabid rain,
unable to let go of the single bird
singing or the rain-specked world.
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