Mostly Quiet

by ..

Guy Gavriel Kay
for George Jonas and Eddie Greenspan

 

It is mostly quiet here where the two of you lie,
not far from each other but not adjacent, either.
That’s probably how it should be. Eddie cared deeply
for some of us but didn’t like too much proximity.
He hugged me only once that I recall,
when my dad died. His father died when he
was thirteen years old. George and I
used to talk of being lucky in our fathers.
I have been lucky in my friends.
Standing beside one grave before walking to the other
I see joggers in the cemetery.
Someone on a bike, someone
walking a dog on a long leash. Autumn
has reached us now: colours, leaves
underfoot, driven to the ground by last night’s rain,
although just now there is sunshine in and out
of clouds. People are in your life,
vivid and loved, and then out of your life
for many different reasons. Dying is one.
Dying is one. Another cyclist.
Another woman with another dog.
The wind takes the leaves
and blows them along
the path that leads to the world,
out of the quiet, away from them again.