Ed Gabrielsen

When they pull the sheet up
over you,
When the sound of your voice
is only
an echo in vast silence,
will I break?

Will waves still wash over
rocks and sand?
over the smooth rocks,
the glacial remains in the cove
where we sat and watched
an eagle fishing,
diving down to catch, then lift,
the silver scales
flashing against blue sky.

Emptiness and bliss, the whole world is this.
each step
each word
is a flying bird,
soaring,
floating,
like a leaf that falls down
and then up
and then fleeting away on the wind,
the colors of autumn, turning again.

Today may be
the last time
I see you.

And yet, you will still be here,
And I will still be here,
And rocks and trees, mountains and rivers
will still be here,
Even then as now.