Happy birthday to you Soren…

Happy birthday to you Soren…

I am doing okay, just the one beer.

I missed you both today.

Pardon my sorrow

It does not mean a lack of appreciation

For all that is beheld,

Nothing is further from the centre

Of an honest reflection,

It is in the hollow of absence

Where dulled hearts hide in limitation

To engage with novelty

When the toil of sinking

Numbs the sensitivities

Reparation of zest and vigour

Is a lost cause.

As with most axes

It falls without care

For the ragged edges

Being unevenly knitted

The process of withdrawal

More easily defined

As a protective trope

For restricted healing,

The notion of disfigurement

Dug deeper than the surface.

Reluctance does not preclude

Brave disclosure

The truth of experience

Is rarely understood

Without a sympathetic movement

Toward a gestalt

Of disorganised complexity

A broken whole.

There is unspoken regard

For the uncomfortable silence

Ashes are left unraked

The grave untended

Artificial flowers wilt

In the heat of their disgrace

Do not disturb

Is less a sign

More a mutually agreed directive

To stand clear.