I remember this day, although I can't remember now who the bereaved colleague was. Feeling some of his pain, and going home to find those two letters in the mail, one for my mother, and one for us all.
Life is a young boy dying
and his friend
who can't cry,
and who won't leave the office
in case he does,
and who won't cry
until he is too drunk tonight
to hold it back.
It is opening a letter
and finding that your friend
died.
Three months ago.
And her daughter
could not bear to tell you
till last week.
It is opening another letter
and being invited to a wedding.
And seeing that the nikah
is on your niece's birthday.
And trying to recapture where you were
and what you felt
on the day that she was born.
(written on 17 March 1997, Bahrain)
1 comment:
This is really very poignant.
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