THE CLAPPING OF ONE HAND
Love
we honour
as if
we
cannot
live without.
Words
we
cling to
as if
no
meaning
exists beyond.
I
will wait
until
love
and
word's
time
runs out.
A TOY IS NO TOY IF IT DOES NOT BREAK
I need not thank you
for the father you gave me,
nor for the bouquet of sisters
or for the melodic brother.
I celebrate your death
—the terrifying silence and peace—
of which you are a part,
for now I can enter that trust
with no fear
nor pain,
knowing
that even the most beautiful is an impermanent
gift.
Many miles away in alien continent
I kiss you
for the tender assurance of your death:
only the most human
is divine.