We sleep upstairs in the northwest corner
next door a single bed
northeast corner room to which my wife escapes walking without waking when I snore
and to which I retreat when I can’t sleep
or wake with a poem to write
quietly rising and moving east while she sleeps in the west
my star
Downstairs in the southwest corner is your altar
a backless chair with the large left stereo speaker
I had it when you were a baby and I walked you round and round the table until you could let go of your fierce battles and finally sleep
On top of the speaker an arrangement of two small wood carvings
and one large carved juniper piece from out west where you lived for awhile then died
curving around a group of poor man’s gems beach stones
each unique
and cherished placed and connected to its neighbors and the bits of wood to make your altar
my ceremony to shuffle each to where my heart says it should go now
they are together a much loved ancient family
In the same corner on the south wall is a pencil drawing I did of you when you were twelve or so
you look so sad
I didn’t know why when I captured just a little of who you were in two dimensions
but now I know more about why you suffered
what drove you to such unhappy life
the drawing of your sadness is the south wall of your altar
On the west wall is another pencil drawing
by an admired friend an old man farmer sailor musician and artist
a violent lament showing a robed middle eastern mother or father
a human being
weeping in despair
holding her his dead child
You own and my memory and prayer own the altar I maintain for you in the living room’s southwest corner
From the room in the northwest corner my office I look past my work to your picture
see your face
Ah but now it’s December and your corner is transformed
the speaker with its set piece of pebbles stones and wood is moved north
along the west wall with its large window overlooking bird and squirrel
feeders thorny bush wild havens woods and stream
replaced by a tree we’ve carefully chosen cut and brought home to decorate with lights and ornaments to make our hearts glad
I wrote this poem to let you know
each year the southwest corner for your altar
becomes a celebration
of life