The Amputation of the Untenable

You are a stranger to me,

This phantom limb

I spent 20 years

Hanging onto.

Now nothing but void

And the insolid of the solid,

In this hollow un-reality,

As if the time never existed at all —

Those sunny afternoons

Or harried Monday mornings,

Babies gasping first breaths

In birthing rooms,

Funerals of brothers and grandmothers.

This is the lesson that we live each day:

Many lives in this one, and

It is all a billowing dreamplay

In which our minds and actions

Shine the light,

Create the narrative,

And drop the curtain.

I know you no longer.

You are not there,
My dear. 

Departed.

I neither care.
Nor care to care.