Silence Ascending

Nobody Remembers the Dead

(For Yivannia)

0409.2025

At night, the heart eclipses

in the quiet of its own dark—

where hope, like a thread of dawn,

is the last small spark

in the failing arc

of meaning.

O day descending—

day that lost its love,

its faith,

its crown—

don’t sleep upon your stone.

And because the dead are forgotten,

let the eyes of the living rise—

let them sing the songs of spring,

let ribs bloom open,

and love sigh loose

through mouth and hand.

When the sun climbs

the ladder of the sky

and bursts at its peak—

its golden elation spilling

its purpose into you—

let its thread of light

run through your sorrow,

and not return.

Then we need no reason

to remember the dead.

— m.c.f.