Less Bearable Than Pride
Come through my door.
Sit a while.
Let us talk of lost days and decades
of letters lost and fiery rhetoric
from broken hearts and broken minds.
Let us talk of unexpected healing
and lighter spirits.
Have a drink with me.
A glass of wine to loosen our tongues.
Let us speak of grace without mentioning the word,
of forgiveness of brothers and strangers
and old arts. The music of balalaikas
and those we love, long dead everywhere
except our hearts.
Sit with me
in the silence only old friends can share,
those who have shared time apart
and found it less bearable than pride.