“Below, I hear tires crushing gravel
And everything again is still.
A strange echo haunts me as I compose:
A woman sobbing.
Does she know this man?
This man who gazes upon the stars?
Could she be the one
Who left him so long ago?
Who hears my words as I
Leak them onto the page, slowly,
Drop by drop,
Seeping through the concrete floors
That separate us?
Silence befalls again.
Nothing in the air
But the silent sighing
Of the clouds,
For they know they are blocking
The eternal blue sky
Which is a little bluer today,
While down here
On the vast expanse,
It has become…
Do you hear the stillness,
My friend?
That stillness is where
Your laughter lived.”
Composed 08/03/2013
Author’s Note: I wrote this on a rather dreary morning after receiving bad news. Usually, Mongolia has an abundance of sunlight, especially in winter. Sometimes these cloudy days can be quite a drag.
Two Second Street 