You
Byron Hoot

I saw you in a dream sad beyond
consolation, words shattering 
as soon as they were spoken,
your eyes and heart having seen,
knowing the extreme of sadness:
only hugging and rocking together
meant anything.  The speechlessness
was apocalyptic, some change no
vision could anticipate had occurred.
I kept silent to keep the words from
breaking, held you loosely and started
counting sighs, the times your body
shuttered, felt how far-reaching your tears
were soaking us in sorrow.  The ambiguity
of comfort and desire to change the un-
changeable floated in the air like incense
rising carrying prayers and then you spoke,
“What are we to do?” I awoke before replying.