I hoped that you might show yourself for after all we'd often talked of what might happen after death but so far there is only this; the way leaves shook in sudden wind as we prayed beside your grave, acorns striking heads, hands, feet, and we looked up, expecting you —it was, it seemed, your kind of joke— but all we saw was silent sky which is to say that life goes on: trees drop their leaves and snow falls soft as children starve and glaciers crack, and so far you have not appeared although it's true I sometimes think that late one night as I lay sleeping you, in secret, slipped inside for in the dawn light when I woke, sun rising like an open heart spilling forth a sea of love, in that moment, ah, bright wings, I saw the world. through your eyes.
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