As if there was a great storm and
we all did not survive it —
instead those who remained here
stopped and considered and then
plunged ahead barely thinking
of those who left us, those
who fell aside; as if we had set aside
their endings, preferred to think
they were gone and would return
someday, perhaps suddenly;
as if they’d never left —
so shall it be with us all.

One day, one year
after we are gone, we will return
in the most unexpected places —
amid flowers in yards of jungly weeds or
set up in trash bags on the curbs;
those who remained, who outlasted us,
will catch one glimpse of us among rubbish
and somehow, transfixed by the sight,
will see us as beautiful, filled with light;
as if our presence changes everything;
as if in that moment this world
would be cleaner, shinier,
and thus repaired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T