Finally, by
the sea, where God is everywhere, I gradually calmed. I stood looking
at the sky. The clouds were the colors of a Raphael. A wounded rose.
I had the sensation he had painted it himself. You will know him. You
will know his hand. These words came to me and I knew I would one day
see a sky drawn by Robert´s hand.
Words came
and then a melody. I carried my moccasins and waded the water's edge.
I had transfigured the twisted aspects of my grief and spread them
out as a shining cloth, a memorial song for Robert. It was a wistful
little song that conjured the color of his eyes. I sang the words
over and over to myself so I wouldn't forget them. Within weeks i
would sing it at his memorial service in the Whitney Museum of Art,
where we had dreamed one day of showing our work and where I watched
him pensively smoke a cigarette from its trapezoidal window.
Flocks of
gull gathered above me. The blue hour was fast approaching.
In he
distance i hear a call, the voices of my children. They ran toward
me. In this stretch of timelessness, I stopped. I suddenly saw him,
his green eyes, his dark locks. I hear his voice above the gulls, the
childish laughter, and the roar of waves.
Smile for
me, Patti, as I am smiling for you.
Just Kids, Patti Smith, Ed. Bloomsbury
