we're in the midst of letting go. Knot by knot, finger by finger

It's something about living on a former 

airforce base in winter 

in the desert, after they've all gone. 

 

You can't help thinking of them during the days. 

Going out or coming back, 

waiting. The soldiers. 

 

They're everywhere, and mostly 

I don't know their names. 

 

1 asked a man in the hardware store for help. 

"The only thing you want 

to remember," he said, 

"about the dead 

 

is that the bottom 

of everything is theirs. 

The bottom of the river, the bottom of 

every drawer. 

If water should cover the road, 

the bottom of that puddle belongs to them." 

 

We're in the midst of letting go. 

Knot by knot, 

finger by finger. 

 

Becoming one 

of the three or four people 

we might have been. 

 

You can't always walk away 

 

"You can think about it," he said, "but 

don't believe in it: on the earth 

already means under the sky." 

 

[Kate Greenstreet, 'If Water Covers the Road', from case sensitive]