Could we exist without them?
                                                       R.M. Rilke

I love the ones who have gone and the way they
are here with me, lending a hand at the wheel,
watching the road when I sleep. How do I play
them back?

I love the silence they keep, like breath one never
hears, like the silence of bark and its sweet
underside. And their sense of humor, the laughter
that swirls just out of reach like wind above the
cathedral. And their easy trust, forgiving me over
and over, remembering how it was.

I love the times to come when together we'll
laugh as one says, Remember that night you
grabbed for the limb and it held?
That was me.