Stopping

You ask me, “What will you miss?” and

I will tell you, “The pain of caring.”

You ask me, “Why did you do it?

When the effort is so much,

Why did you care?”

 

I cannot tell you.

I know I will miss this, but

I can never find the words to say

What it is that exists

          When my eye and

          Their eyes

          Meet.

When caring means something,

There are no words, and

If there were words,

They would be

          Your words and

          My words,

Because we have only

          Our eyes and not

          Their eyes.

 

There are no words,

          Only eyes.

 

February 2011