You Know Everything

Karen London died today. Karen left this place. And my life seems such a sham.

This is no pity party for me. This is not self-punishment in hopes of some redemption. It is just that when life/death stands right up to you, challenges you, deserts you, places the lump in your breast, the lump in your throat, the speeding train, the crash position on the airplane; you know. You know everything.

Every frivolous breath, every protective posture, every missed chance to speak true. You know and you can't close your eyes because it is within you now.

So all your falsehoods are laid at your feet. This is not the work I am supposed to be doing. This is not the man I love. This is not the right house for me to make art. This music on the radio, this snippet of conversation, this gossip at my feet, is fetid, rotting, unworthy.

And all that is worthy of attention, time, breath, step, and reach is that which is folded in grace.

Karen is gone but the love, of her husband, her children, her work, her friends was so true and so absolute that they will always possess it. Karen died today but nothing died, nothing passed away. Nothing at all.