…remember that time when you tried to explain the word sublime to me? But you got all caught up in the terminology of chemistry, fumbling around as you tried to speak. Figuring out how a solid turns into a gas, while totally bypassing a liquid state, just like to today when I went to the lake (the lake…). But something happened then, you snapped and ran outside, crying. I chased after you, barefoot in the zoysia grass, past unfazed rabbits, and found you at last, collapsed on your knees, starting silently a the sunset. On that evening, during that soft metallic June, as I sat next to you, I finally felt like I knew the meaning of that word, sublime…
One Sunday morning I heard shouting
coming from a crowd of eager people.
They were on some kind of outing.
Someone said that they saw an eagle.
It’s been a decade since you left us.
Death was unpleasant then, my friend.
It’s been a second, yes I reckon
since I asked this question, but I will ask again…
Where did you go that day, my eagle?
Where did you go that day, my friend?
Where did you go that day, my eagle?
Where did you go that day, my friend?
You took an exit,
connected to the nexus,
that’s what I like to think,
that’s what I pretend.
I don’t believe in heaven,
but I still felt your presence,
I felt your spirit transcend.
I still make time to go out scouting
even on days when I am down and doubting.
Hoping that somewhere along the clouds
I’ll make out the shape of an eagle.