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Gratefulness
Like a rain I feel but cannot see, the names of the dead, falling.
Silences I hear between first names, middle, last
are slivers of empty air between lines of rain. I want
to be in these tiny silences that cannot hold their deaths
but join them to all silence — rests in a piece of music,
the quiet beneath a rock, the feather on a crow,
beak closed, wings perfectly still.
From Talking Underwater, Wind Publications, 2007. Posted by kind permission of the poet.
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