Halfway up the air strip - buffeted by warmish air - I remembered an older dog. Grief, too. Idolizing grief is an effective strategy for avoiding guilt. Who said it's okay?
No really - it is okay. You sob in morning darkness while geese chatter quietly on the black pond and it feels good. The sun is not a jewel but nor is it a fire and your tears while driving and singing were welcome. You did what you had to do - it's called childhood.
Well, it's called being human in the world - is that better? My feet were cold and the dog trotted far ahead, oblivious to danger. I mean war. Little by little we learn: I did not do it.
I remembered her and realized that it was not my fault how she died. And later, over coffee, forgave the damn fool who could only ask 'are you okay?' after pulling the trigger. The past blurs and we remember not specifics but pain which is another way of saying that gun is always going off. Self-righteousness is inherent in grief.
What is my anger but a way to stay angry? The moon sifted back and forth between borderless clouds. Killdeer scattered as I stomped through the field. Forgive me oh my love.
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