I went to him quiet with a notion to jump in the lake and drown , a sonnet of redemption playing for miles and miles and miles upon my tired face , my first cry opening a flame which the glass of water he gave me could not extinguish . I went to him alone , alone like pregnant camels are when left unattended . After listening when I told him what happened , William read from the Quran , ” In the name of God , merciful to all , compassionate to each “. I was scared , telling a lie as to coming here , even more so not divorced yet , actually being in his apartment , the cushions aligned , fine carpets outspread , the goblets all gleaming in the window green reflecting over Garfield Park where I take my children swimming and where he had first embraced me under a tree . I was frightened by the news flashing over the screen of the murder / suicide report of Christy , who I had grown up with , found dead by her lawyer husband , her naked body entwined around her lovers in a bed on the east side of town . She had looked at me only two days ago as she was leaving and I stood to enter the psychologists door , her blue eyes watchful and violet with vulnerability yet something paradoxically courageous in her direct gaze , a watery gaze staring straight into mine creating with it a strange sense of motion , a tide like ebb with an epilogue so swift , withholding almost as much pleasure as it yielded . Her search for Neverland a pandemonium furious and fearful leading her … and leading me too . Feeling the thud of an elevator , I was scared of the thirteenth floor . Would I spend nights in heaven hanging with the dead ? Thunder turned into the calm deep voice of Will reciting again , breaking an opening thru the clouds hovering in my mind . ” He it was who spread out the earth and placed in it towering mountains and rivers . Of all fruits he planted therein two pairs . He causes night to envelope day . In these are wonders for a people who reflect “. I was scared , scared to even think about what had happened or what I was doing . Where was God , where was the promised land , the land of the human skeleton , a skeleton of white bone , the meat of dead bodies picked at by crows and wild dogs , a body of muscles , organs , ovaries , lungs , the sound of the human heartbeat , the sound of a kiss , the wind over the sea , the call of the whale , the humming of the flying creatures , the long glide of the water swan , the sunrise on Lake Pontchartrain , the plink of the tiny tracks of the Plover bird , the blue avatars ? Where did it all exist ? Did it live on the Golden Record in the sky , pulsing behind a veil in the cosmos or was it here on the dirt path behind the narrow street of naked judgement in my neighborhood , the path into the Nature Center where dew like pearls on the grassy moss and branches reminds me of my children’s tenderness , my love for them always heading ” straight into the shining sun “. The air speaks falling leaves surrounding Will and me as I leave him standing still with restraint , a heroic eagle in the city . I pass a holy shrub growing which many years later a friend would compose a poem about and I hear a voice coming from the bed where my friend lay dead , telling a tale like poetry from her shroud , a tale that can still be true even if it’s not accurate like the creation story happening in only seven days . I walk into my house but I remain scared , scared and helpless , my secret scared about the tiny breath inside of me that no one knows , turning and turning and turning . I write these words to you if in heaven we don’t meet . . .