I laugh and cry all mixed together,
which is why I can never tell a person
how I feel or explain catastrophe.
I say to the silent one,
put your spirit in me,
but I do not say it out loud,
so nothing happens,
but silence.
And for all my talking,
that is what I do,
keep my silence.
Except on a very rare night
I see eyes that tell me everything,
and then
their lids close,
and I am alone,
and there is nothing left to do
but find my dying.