Lost

There comes a knock upon the door. Two men in uniform; whatever for? “It’s bad news; your husband’s MIA. We’re sorry for your loss,” they say. I run outside, I need to escape Into the forest as the neighbors all gape. Wandering through the trees, I hear The whispers of the sea that’s near Into the autumn night I run, Away from the light, away from the sun. I’ve walked this path a hundred times; No need to heed the warning signs. The cliff is ahead, sudden and steep, An endless plunge into the deep. I go to our secret meeting place, But all it is, is empty space. What’s the point of being here? We always lose what’s held most dear. A friend, a father, a brother, a son, A spouse, a daughter, a mother, anyone… I breathe in deeply and close my eyes, Turning my face to the skies. Then I hear it, calling on the autumn breeze, The song you sang while we sat beneath the colored trees. You are not lost, you’re here with me. The low road * led you safe o’er the sea. High on this cliff, our love had grown, And here to this cliff, you have flown. For I now know, with just that sound, Things once lost, can be found. *see Scottish meaning of “the low road” as used in “Loch Lomond”