originally published in Vita Brevis (online), July 2021
It is still there just below the surface
Under the sand under the rocks under the sea
Under the infinite sky
What the mourning dove cries to the sun and clouds
What the honeysuckle clings to for strength and scent
What each green and yearning thing in the garden wants
Human life ends at this threshold
Its words no match for the unspoken
Its muscles feeble compared to the branch
Here is silence and power
Potency of the natural world
Beyond me
I am mute and blind and deaf
I am numb and cold
Marked by the fire of regret
What should I have said?
Or saw? Or heard?
What should I have felt
To enclose and protect you?
Too late.
Now I note only the empty spaces
The unresponsive air
The heavy shadows
And the door that is forever closed.
