Golden Fields

I see golden fields, I think of her. Running, playing, laughing. I look at the hot fire, I think of her. Gone, smoke bellowing into the sky. She is everywhere, but no-where. For years and years, time plays tricks. It all feels like yesterday, only yesterday. This is what lack of closure does. Without it, the heart mourns endlessly. Within the body it lies, no-one sees. Flowing like all rivers into an ocean. So vast that it engulfs, one is lost. Turbulent waves all around, crashing. She was a child, smile so cheerful bright. The messenger left behind, words stolen. Silent places in the corners of the mind. Thieves always standing in the darkness. Yet, I can still feel her hand. Heidi Sands 1/26/17