Tomorrow


It is so quiet
as night falls outside my window.
I am alone with the uncertain beating
of my heart,
my wedding dress
a ghost in the corner of the room,
and I write these words.


When you first came here
three years ago,
hurt and alone,
my heart beat strangely
and I didn’t know why.
You were easy to become friends with
       I know he felt the same way
we reached out and
It was like we had known you 
all of our lives. 
We played together
     and laughed together
like children,
the three of us, always.

I don’t think he noticed 
the glances
we sometimes exchanged.

He had known me longer,
he had a higher claim.
He gave me flowers when we were seven
and at thirteen we kissed
for the very first time
each other.

>From the first 
you understood a part of me
he couldn’t.
Part of me buried in the grave of my parents
like your past
likewise lost.
And once when I knew he couldn’t understand
my tears stained your shoulder
as you held me against the sobs.

He is so many things I admire
strong and kind and loyal.
He is everything I have ever loved
     	
	except for you...

You were quiet today
when you came to see me.
The ‘what ifs’ still unanswered
hung heavy all around us.

	What if you had been born here?

	What if I had known you all my life?

		...like him.

Then perhaps I would be writing these words
to him instead of to you.

Tomorrow, after the ceremony,
I will bury these words
under the cherry tree
on my parents’ grave, 
and they will lie unspoken still.



~Rachel Fox 03/00~