my own Eulogy by Robert Henriques

……………………………………………..in memoriam: Randy Pugh (1946-2017)

You thought I would need you to speak for me.
……..I do not. Here I am again,

this time as the perennial question: crack-
……..open, bud, and reach, a vigorous

pale green urging, a shoot that springs
……..up and out from the fertile grist of decayed remains, but only

just enough to meet the sudden crush, the irrevocable weight
……..of another clumsy random foot-fall.

What you hear is only the gravel in a voice
……..that once soared over a clear stream. You shake

my pan, you search for me, panic in the sand, beckoning,
……..then pleading, then crying out for me to join you

in your response, in any response. I am sorry my love
……..to leave you awe-filled, your hands

empty. All questions, now, eternally, unanswered. But—
……..was it not unseasonably warm

and friendly for January; spring must come
……..early. Sunlight slant, the bright glint that slipped

the windshield glides like an ice pick, easy
……..into my brain. So many different ways to die. I am lucky

to have you here. Your face, the last.
……..I had meant to tell you. Opening the pad,

I was just in time to meet this moment, I was keeping notes,
……..a regimen of exercise, of writing,

of feeding the lures, then casting them out
……..to the waters, offering a return, words

you had told me years ago when I
……..came back, they have come back at last,

an invitation to unfurl the flower, scenting the winds.
……..Is this a love poem, do I hear bells?

Robert Henriques began to write poetry in earnest 10 years ago. He moved to northern California to practice medicine in a little clinic in the mountains there.