by Ted Guhl
"...that within which passeth show..."
Others, before now, losing their friend,
Found solace in expression of their love,
Prayed the desperate heartache of the certain end,
And found new union in faith from above.
Others, it seems, kept council alone,
Passed time in silent sorrowing lament,
Slowly forgetting for minutes, then hours,
Until, simply, life settled into the event.
Am I of the first, or last, or some other?
It does not matter. What can I say about this leaving?
I do not know how to be in this, my brother?
And what will I be without your being?
I do not know. Some questions mind cannot settle,
My friend. I, who am myself, and you as well.
Back Poetry Writing Home