Vigil
heaven could not wait for you. you fell
to God quickly, angel-white and ethereal as
your soul slipped out like a song, pianissimo.
you didn't want to go until you were gone.
so you swallowed the last
notes of this sight-reading like pills, and
only a few were close enough to hear
the whisper of your lungs collapsing.
we didn't know your voice was
buried in the rubble, we didn't know
how bruised it was until the silence
hung heavy in the space our hearts
emptied when they moved toward you
(but we couldn't climb to heaven yet).
in the quiet we shifted but nothing
sounds like you and nothing ever will
because you are gone to eternity, so
eternally we'll hold the rest. we fell down
to the coda and reminisced on
the cadenza echoing in our ears
(such is the immortality of a day,
that we remember it like snow on christmas;
we forget how it melts). church bells chimed
when i knew, and evening rained and thundered but
neither could match your timbre and tone.
our prayers were sent too late, but now
you'll be in heaven in time to hear them.