The dying stare beyond you
into some other world
when you look into their eyes.
They gaze intently
beyond your care, your grief,
beyond your dream.
Tonight, you stare up toward
where my friend sang his last song,
silenced as he was.
He’d been gone a day,
and where you look now, a bird sang,
wild and lovely as a meadowlark.
Our grieving is so hard,
even when we know it foolish
and selfish. We want to go with,
To that place you see with placid,
waiting eyes. We want to join you
where death can’t unjoin us ever again.
