Etched Canvas Wall for Maddie

Jessie Lause

This charcoal canvas endures the memory of friendship.
Friends fallen, and friends as stoic as the wall itself,
Scathed in process, personality, persistence, promise--
They enter, they sign, they leave, and I hope.

I hope that they return to view pictures they etched on my heart.
These tableaus are articulately sculpted in the essence of a signature:
Personal and fleeting, yet present and significant, all the same.
She entered, she signed, she left, and I still hope.

I hope she sees more than the faded tag she scribed in blue chalk.
I hope she feels my muscles tremble in distress
When I lie awake through those chilling February midnights,
Afraid to fall victim to dreaming;
As though my hope isn't worthless and she might return.
Afraid to fall victim to memory lapse,
As though I'll wake up and only know her

like the tail end of a penciled in signature.

Instead, I fall victim to the present.

My heart exerts unfamiliar blood through unfamiliar veins

As I lose myself in a grizzly, tear-soaked pullover,

Battling the restlessly tousled sheets

That reek of Evergreen Lysol and uncertainty.

I recall  I am slightly allergic to both.

I imagine how she would’ve giggled, suppressed and endearing.

I decide to fall victim to the rhythm of silence.
It's a rhythm I can control, a familiar feeling of solace.
I profoundly inhale the dust infested reminiscence of the chalkboard panel,
When I smile and understand
Why I called her my friend.
Why I cherish all those who etched a notion on this black canvas,

Why I laugh till I cry when I recall the most trivial moments,
Why I seek the bliss of the truth and accept what once was,
Why I finally sink into my bed sheets and imagine the cloud on which she now sits,
Why I finally have control over the intention of my tears,
Why I smile.

This should be the longest of lists.
Some would say finding reasons to smile is an art form,

But it’s only a simple human obligation.
It won’t be a tribulation, being vulnerable to peace.
 

Cherish humanity,

Before, during, and after

the walls of faded blue chalk have crumbled to nothingness.