How do I speak a word whose loss
is devastation,
burdening my heart with twisted emptiness?
Gentle word, a lifetime companion.
Strong word, mentor of my vocabulary.
All the permutations of its syllables color every rising sun;
soothe a hectic pace into sleep.
The horizon seems long, long away;
lends no energy to pen the days into being;
looks empty.
How do I speak this word
when there is no vocal promise
in the morning, no
pillow whisper on my shoulder?
My hands are powerless
to re-write it into being.
All its saddened meanings gather at my feet.
They weep, remembering.
I comfort them but for me there is no
comfort. The book is closed.