Maudlin, never

I read the Poet's words,
his eulogy for a friend
well, that was the subtitle
otherwise I might not have known

the Poet weaved syllables turned
golden phrases, transporting me to
a time I had not shared with them, yet

I was there

As I looked on
the tears came, and welled in the corners
of my eyes,
stubborn...unwilling to run down my face
my cheeks burned,
the beauty of the words blurred
my sight, but too late to shield them from my heart

this beating thing within my chest
leaped out... more than sympathy
more like kinship...we'd both lost someone

for days I'd been struggling for words
to accompany me in my own time of grief
yea, in this season of mourning

sometimes not caring about trite expressions,
dangling participles and the like
knowing nothing reasonable rhymes with death....

other times, concerned my cathartic release
would be mawkish, miserable, and futile
impotent....unworthy of the ink,

But the Poet's narrative drew me inside
the final moments of the last time he saw his friend

and touched every part of all the things
I wanted to say

© 2011

Inspired by Poet Kalamu Ya Salaam