Black Jacket

There you are,

in the back of my closet,

lost in a jungle of clothes,

and entangled in vines of pants

hung from this wardrobe.

I've missed you.

I remember we spent

so much time together

in high school when the

days felt so unbearably long,

dragging me for miles.

Mom asked me why

I spent so much time

with you. She called you

ugly, but your presence

is a legacy that reminds

me of being a child,

living in Virginia and watching

Yah-Yah faithfully

wearing you out.

On hard days, you were

her cape flowing

over her shoulders.

On cold days,

you were a warm hug

wrapping your long, fleecy

arms around her.

On painful days,

you were armor that

shielded her from life's storms.

But when her sickness grew

into a beast we could no longer ignore

you were around less,

and you only became

a harsh reminder

of all the forgotten memories

we once held close

that were swallowed up by illness.

Through years of clothes

coming, going, and disappearing,

I decided to leave you here

in my closet

to meditate.

So I've missed you,

like I've missed her.

You were both here

but lost a long time ago.

As the passing days

became fading faces

in the mind of a woman

that once knew me, I

remembered you, Black Jacket,

in all of the reminiscing

of your history that led

you here to my closet.

As I grab you and put you on,

I echo back over your

life in my mind,

I think of her

and it makes me cry

then smile.