The Silent Ones
Could we exist without them?
—R. M. Rilke
I love the ones who have gone and the way they are
here with me, lending a hand at the wheel, watching
the road when I sleep. How do I pay them back?
I love the silence they keep, like breath one never hears, like
the silence of bark and its sweet underside. And their sense of
humor, the laughter that swirls just out of reach like wind
above the cathedral. And their easy trust, forgiving me over
and over, remembering how it was.
I love the times to come when together we’ll laugh as
one says, Remember that night you grabbed for the
branch and it held? That was me.
Mike McMahon
