The Letting Go Of Friendship

May 20, 2011

After great pain,
a formal feeling comes,
the nerves sit ceremonious like tombs,
the stiff heart that cries,
as if it was yesterday,
& yet was it yesterday
or centuries before the feet,
go round,
of ground or air or thought,
a wooden way regardless grown,
a quartz contentment like a stone,
this is the hour of lead,
such as catching snow flakes on your tongue,
first the snow,
then it melts,
then you fall,
then it starts all over,
first the chill,
then the stupor,
then the letting go.

The author's comments:
I wrote this piece and it took a long time. I really hope you all like it.

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