To Coriander: poem

By: Marilyn McVicker

 

 

Your black cushion
sits empty.
Usually you sit there, regal,
a sphinx,
protectress of the valley.
Not a bird flies or a leaf falls
without your knowledge.

 

Your ventures out,
ventures in,
your circles, barks, whines,
your emotional pulls
and bodily needs
frame my days.

 

Your absence
has left a void
no human can fill,
a silence
beyond loneliness.
You are
the only being
with whom I am safe.
Please     come     home.