The Light of Your Silent Unturning

That next numb morning

after the news arrived

like clouds from the other

side of daylight combing

away sound and color

on your longest ride home.

News that made your fingers

feel on fire as you held an

inflammable piece of paper,

made your tongue thirst

for prayers, even ones

mispronounced in church,

or wherever two or three

gather together, made you

take your place among the

wounded birds staring up at

trees tilting further and further 

away like ghosts hiding

from their bodies.

That next morning you

secretly persisted to exist,

and exist, and exist. 

I saw you live on, impossible

this, but convincing enough

to cause me to believe again

that love isn’t just an empty 

refuge after all.