Concerning the Book That Is the Body of the Beloved

 

 

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Not deepest grief,
Of course,
Nothing can help you
With that.
                 Later,
Maybe, but not now.
Now you are unreachable,
Alone with all that was
Awry between you.

Alone with what was said
and not said.
                      Saying it all
Now freely confessing
What you withheld then,
Admitting what you denied
Only a short while ago.

How obvious that you
Were often wrong and unkind.

Aware of all the good
Deeds you intended
That remained undone.
Aware of all the good
Between you 
That Death has undone.


—Gregory Orr 

.     .     .

In the end, everyone is aware of this:
nobody keeps any of what he has,
and life is only a borrowing of bones.


—Pablo Neruda

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wait - what ?

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