Wednesday, January 19, 2022


That first day 
when I'm quiet, 

but the sound of the world 
still hums—

when my pen lies still 
and this page 
remains empty, 

but the truth 
is completed,
and the inquest is done—

let it be because 
there is nothing left to seek;

no loose earth 
and quick-
drying cement 

to plug and cover 
the holes, bore-in deep 
by the forceps of grief;
no gauze 
to wrap over these 
implausible scars; 

and no one 
who needs to see 
for themselves to believe 

the face I am wearing 
that day 
will show up there,

for they,
on their own, will have 
finally realized

for once, how 
contented—how at peace 
I truly was.