We find words our consolations
After we leave the funeral silence
And our silence is dead for words
As they leave uncertainty behind.
It takes a lot of silence to console
When we no more hold stairs rope
In our old word darkness to greet
A white smile at the end of rope.
Rope is worn with hands holding.
A white smile dissolves in words.
Now we no more find consolations
In the uncertainty behind words.
(remembering a friend who had left us thirty years ago)