lavender burns

The night after he was gone, 

the house was quiet, still. 

I couldn't feel him, 

not his spirit or his aura, 

not like I wanted to. 

He had simply vanished.

I awakened my third eye

hoping that maybe she could find

a wisp of something 

something my mortal mind could not. 

And though she searched

probing near and far 

there was nothing behind the cobwebs 

only dust and memory.  

It was then that I started to clean 

thinking that a refresh 

could resurface something, anything. 

I collected lavender 

from the bush outback,

some fresh leaves, 

some dried branches,

I added words on paper

and lit a match, 

watched it all burn, 

the smoke rise. 

until smoke signals 

encouraged by the western winds

seeped into every room, 

into every crevice around the apartment 

leaving me mesmerized.