still rises, they tell me
outside these curtains –
musicians play, children laugh
office workers follow their
It may be so.
People fall in love
, they tell me
in bars, on streets –
their pulses race, palms sweat
when eyes meet over the rims of teacups,
sparking a moment’s understanding
in a swift
, shy, glance
And it may indeed be so.
Hope is not gone, they tell me:
in the midnight sky –
Orion shines as clearly as he ever did
when we watched him together;
he moves through the same course,
his belt still tight.
No doubt, that’s so.
They don’t tell me why I should care.
They have no words to connect me,
all their kindnesses can’t rebuild
a bridge that crumbled behind pallbearers
Life goes on, they tell me
In their bustling world –
I nod and listen, without contradicting,
let their well-meaning
flutter, settle, melt like snow
in a mild winter.
In the end, they’ll go.