It aches, this life. When I quit trying
to say it is otherwise, I feel relieved.
So many people I love are in such pain.
When grief comes, it comes
and comes. The truth, you say?
I don't bother to get dressed some days.
Yesterday, I saw that apple tree
in the old Jewish cemetery.
Blossoms fell as a man walked by,
whistling. Stones gleamed in sunlight.
A wrought-iron fence guarded the dead,
kept out the living. There are no words for it,
how sunlight shines on the fence
that separates the living from the dead.
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