for the ancient,
the dreary of spirit
and those without sin,

comes effortlessly,

like an old friend
to usher
you home,
quiet-like

in the night,

a seemless event

as if
in not knowing
you were leaving,
you may never
have been here
at all …

sleep swallowing
itself

to make itself whole.

But what of those
who die in slow motion
again and again,

who come to learn
that living
and dying
are twin sisters
in the same body?

Yet, you bid me
not speak of such things …

and that’s all right;

we both know
some day
you will listen,

Just not today.

we both know

soon enough
there will be fire
too close
for even you
to ignore …

and the rage
of glaciers
melting
will make
childhood disappear
forever …

water evaporating

water washing into
water

everything water
and becoming
water

these things
in motion now
with all the meaningless fury
of an ever-changing sea …

You watch
as if suspended,
a silent spectator
to the unforgivable
in a god-free zone

and I am struck
by the vast insignificance
of all this grieving,
even as my breath
grows quiet
under the ashes.