How easy to give up hope.How easy to draw death over you
Like a black cloak. Cover
Your face, your eyes. Stand
There like a dead tree.
I did that, claiming it was penance,
Claiming I was sorry I was
Alive after the beloved died.
Who was I fooling? No one
Demanded I act that way,
Least of all the ones I loved
Who longed to live again
And could not unless I uttered
Their names, unless I told
Their stories, unless I felt
In my own bones
How much they loved the world.