The wind is blowing fierce today dragging the temperature down in its wake.

Standing on the rocky shoreline, salt spray washing my face, I feel the presence of my sister’s absense.

She would have loved it here.

Drowning in a sudden remembering of all that was lost those many months ago, the muse whispers, “Write it out.”

And so I do.

How's life, or death, on the other side?
by Louise Gallagher

These moments slip 
in silent, 
stealthy, 
unbidden nudges  
awakening 
memory 
rushes into
the gaping gash 
of my mind 
grown numb 
in the absence of 
your soft voice.

It’s hard 
learning to inhabit life 
since you left 
in the early hours 
of a harsh November morning 
closing in 
on two years ago 
when it was so easy
to believe
you wanted to stay
as much as we
didn’t want you to leave.
I want to tell you this.

And I want to ask 
How are you? 
How’s life 
or is it death
over there
on the other side 
of the here 
and now 
where I feel the loss 
of each day 
without your presence 
reminding me 
to send that birthday card 
to our middle sister, 
clear my fridge of unidentifiable blooms,
clean the oven of greasy grime
 and dust the shelves 
I cannot see because 
I am the short one 
who didn’t look up 
to see how hard 
this life had become 
for you 
to live 
another day 
beyond the last.