rainbows
the first time i saw her, it had been a few months since the plane,
the flames,
the days we wish to forget but are seared into our bodies still.
since january i searched for her,
in new faces that wore her clear framed glasses,
in the mirror
but all i found were swollen eyes.
that summer i drove to martha’s vineyard alone, to clear my mind
but my mind, alone, was a dangerous thing.
i wrote false equations with no one to check my math
imagined it was all a lie, swore she would come back
i was not ready to accept
tragedy for what it was,
(am i yet? will i ever be?
and why should we?)
shabbat on that island i ran through the woods, her absence closing in like the branches
sobbed, spoke to her out loud
bleary eyed i reached a clearing, an unexpected marsh, and sat among the tall, soft grasses — i couldn’t run anymore, didn’t see a point in moving forward
head in hands, i prayed
“if you see me, send a sign. anything. please. i can’t do this without you.”
finally i looked up
gasped —
that grey sky was suddenly bright, illuminated by a rainbow across the horizon, blazing
sending a technicolored glow through the clouds
my hands shook with disbelief. “is that you?”
another, fainter rainbow appeared slowly above the first one, as if to say, “of course it is.”
how silly was i to think she would send a subtle sign,
it’s hannah, after all.
the second time was in colorado, one year later,
and i was further from the days, but feeling worse
because i thought i should feel better.
but i’ve learned that once it happened it will never go away, or get easier
we only get better at functioning.
my brother’s vegetable farm
with the waddling chickens and fresh snap peas
her silk headband hanging in the window display of Madewell
new types of compost stands at the farmer’s market
everything had her name on it but the distance between us felt greater,
i wanted to tell her but she was no longer listening,
or so i thought.
one night i bawled in my room, slamming my fists into the bed, “why are you gone”
“I can’t do this without you.”
this was interrupted by a knock.
my family ushered me outside and there it was.
an enormous, perfect rainbow smiling at me upside down.
i dashed into the rain-soaked street and felt my tears mesh with the lingering drops
“is that you?”
in the pictures on my dad’s phone you can see the double rainbow beginning to appear behind our dancing bodies
“of course it is.”
yesterday i went running in the grey
though i hadn’t run for weeks, my legs suddenly itched to move
and this weekend
the faint smell of death brought me back to the days
and pictures of her smiling, strutting onto broadway
laughing over beers she bought in brooklyn
popped up on my phone.
dissonance between those simple moments,
her cackle,
her voice
singing the same song in our living room a thousand times over,
and these years of silence
i hear the ghost of her giggles grow further each day
“it’s strange how i have so many people
who love me, who care,
but when i remember you’re gone i feel stranded, alone.
i want to tell you everything
so much has changed
what would you be like if you were here with me? where are you?”
she’s nowhere, the skeptical, adult voice in my head replied
the ache in my chest rose as i rounded floral corners and cul-de-sacs
i’m too old to be talking to myself
so i injected music into ears to drown out
the truth of a world without her
until i made a right turn and looked up —
and fell to the ground in awe
shining with the confidence i always admired,
blessing the world with her light
as the words “is that you” popped into my mind,
a second rainbow had already formed.
when she died her body went quickly
but i don’t like the idea that we turn to dust.
instead i imagine particles of her, Mitch, Ari, Leslie,
floating into flowing wind
bubbling in foamy ocean waves,
settling onto green leaves
nibbled by tiny bugs
carried on the backs of butterflies
waving in blades of grass
lingering in the air in my lungs
flickering in the magic of rainbows
and i must remember this,
because when i do
i search for her,
and find her
everywhere.
