Thursday, December 1, 2022


Stone-blind, we carried you 
past the boundaries 
of our apprehending,  

trying, still, to recognize 
some sense 
in the invisible.

we dug tunnels for dark hours 
under sympathy, 

emptying our heads
of its ringing 

and filling them 
instead with the glory 
of its grief.

Then, mutely, we agreed—
there are still songs 
left to be written, but we 

won't know how they'll 
go until we catch 
our children singing.