breakfast words

we stood
with flickering wicks
watching
the departing light
from whom
we sought to
"see acuter quite"

we imagined,
with eyes closed
terraced foreheads
and briny sockets,
"somewhere [we] have never traveled"
(sorrowfully beyond
any experience
whose smile had its silence)

we touched
fingers
at the tips of our beings
reaching for those
whose hands
had covered their mouths
to keep their breath
from running
wondering
"how shall we gather what griefs destroy?"

we walked
-away-
into the bustle,
with a sorrow.
"oh the things [we] may learn from her
when sorrow walks with [us]"

(but is it time to learn
yet?
or does the shadow
-from his beaming light-
still have that potential energy
from above?
is it time to look
to strings of words
to explain
the woe
which is not wisdom,
but the
"woe
that is madness?"

i will learn
one day,
maybe tomorrow.
but today
i still want to

cry
for his sister
smile
for his legacy

and fail

to understand

his tragedy.)

DLS