Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Hope Crowfeathers

Once upon a time

a man whose voice I’d never heard

called me Hope Crowfeathers

and asked me to be his Valentine.

After that we talked for hours

over thousands of miles

while I sank into love

and he laughingly denied it.

He dared me to go to him

and I drove all night to do it,

meeting him bleary eyed in his driveway.

wondering who this man was

in the fedora

with his cockiness and glasses

and his Massachusetts accent.

He took me walking on a frozen beach

the same beach we married on the next year,

the one where I scattered his ashes

ten years later.

But that first time, with the ice crunching

under our shoes

we talked about heartbreak

about histories and herstories.

He sent me home knowing

we were only at the beginning

that by calling me Hope

he had given it to us both.

(c) RCGA 2013Image

So, these are going to be out of order. This one is from April 29th.


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