An Elegy

other than breathing
we haven’t moved in
how many minutes
a real bell, sounds
even with all the
not knowing involved
impersonality
the sounds of the train
blaring through our windows
they aren’t the same
cross those tracks
mourning
although steel and cold
tell his mother
there are stars aligned
we often chase clouds wondering
if we ever knew well enough to matter
as a family of sand grains
lay on a Puerto Rican beach
if our message in a battle
ever reached the love that it slid thru
for if the script ever blessed with eyes
flew over to a touch,
which would chill your gut to commiserate
it was okay to give
it was okay to grieve
the pinch and wake up syndrome
please tell his mother
there is a day, his love extended far up to the fireplace
reached through cloudy air
for the heavens
true beating , you will breathe in
but it will never be okay
bow down to the calm that may never come
for you, who felt him
for all of those who didn’t
and
for the silence that hasn’t moved in

how many minutes