If you come as softly

As wind within the trees

You may hear what I hear

See what sorrow sees.


If you come as lightly

As threading dew

I will take you gladly

Nor ask more of you.


You may sit beside me

Silent as a breath

Only those who stay dead

Shall remember death.


And if you come I will be silent

Nor speak harsh words to you.

I will not ask you why, now.

Or how, or what you do.


We shall sit here, softly

Beneath two different years

And the rich earth between us

Shall drink our tears.


by: Audre Lorde