Ludicrous Lucidity

Yellowstone in winter. Canyon Falls, Rutherford Park, Old Faithful. Of all the places we had ever visited, this was his favorite. Josh even named one of the elk after his mother. It was while enroute to Rutherford that we encountered the cow, along with her two calves. Blocking the road, she looked up at us as if to say, "Patience, patience." We understood. No babe should lose its mother. The snow makes a crunching sound as I walk toward the rim of the canyon. The air is crisp and clean, the chill nips at my nose and ears. I watch the falls flowing mightily, endlessly, effortlessly. I muse to myself that eternity must be like Canyon Falls. Each molecule of water contributing to the whole in an unbroken, continuous flow. Not one is more or less important than the other. Everything in its proper time and place. Things are as they should be. The universe continues, the world keeps spinning. The sun seems so far away, as if on some distant journey far from here. Away from this miserable angst-filled planet we call earth. Who could blame it? My God, he was just twenty-one. I tried, I swear I tried my best to be both mom and dad. But the White Lady ensnared him, seduced him, made him promises, told him she would ease his pain, make him forget. But she lied. She always lies. In the end she won. Smacked her lips, another victim. Another loss of a young life. So, so young. He wanted to be a medical researcher, to find a cure for the cancer that took his mother. Now he is with her. Maybe it was meant to be this way. This ludicrous lucidity, like a fallen angel, keeps taunting me. Melancholy returns. Loneliness haunts my days and nights. The air is changing, the cold now seeping into my bones. Even my heart feels frozen. Frozen here, frozen in time. How I long to hear a voice. It's so god-awful quiet. the allure of red flaming poppy paradise dreams crushed by abuse