My brother's best friend died in a car accident last June, and I still find it hard to accept that he's gone. So I got the urge last night to write this poem:
Beyond Recall
Nothing matters
to the dead,
that's what's so hard
for the rest of us
to take in--
their complete indifference
to our enticements,
our attempts to get in touch--
they aren't observing us
from a discreet distance,
they aren't listening
to a word we say--
you know that,
but you don't believe it,
even deep in a cave
you don't believe
in total darkness,
you keep waiting
for your eyes to adjust
and reveal your hand
in front of your face--
so how long a silence
will it take to convince us
that we're the ones
who no longer exist,
as far as X is concerned,
and Y, that they've forgotten
every little thing
they knew about us,
what we told them
and what we didn't
have to, even our names
mean nothing to them
now--our throats ache
with all we might have said
the next time we saw them.