In Which the Dead are Met
I saw the man last night
Perspective new, resentment gone
We decided to be friends
He died ten years ago
But quarrels end
As Christ walked through a door
Though it was closed
So all go out again
Through rooms we have not seen before
We do not end
How can we forgive, forget?
Nothing is forgotten yet
It seems a trifling when
There is no end beyond the end
In which the dead are met
Pavel
July 30, 2011