Put the world in abeyance
as singers are passing and dancers
are passing from among us;
these will be spaces
we cannot fill at once.
Put this life we’ve known in abeyance.
How far we have yet to go is uncertain,
and with the holes in the map
left by the passage of those
who knitted lives together, our way is unclear.
Put the long view in abeyance;
measure progress now by inches
or less. Creeping forward without song,
blind to the path, each step a martyr’s
touchstone in the pavement;
there is now, in fact and fiction,
only today. Put tomorrow
in abeyance while waiting for
a new song, a new dance,
a new map for what’s ahead.
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