Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer


Today we lose the words

yours and mine and find

in their absence a song

that can only be sung together.

How did we ever think

we could attempt

this humanness alone?

To the table of love,

we bring soup, bring cherries,

bring the bread of our own

sweet communion.

We bring scissors to cut away

the tresses of the past,

bring dark wine to toast

the courage of showing up exposed.

And when we forget

the words to the song,

well, there is always laughter.

And when we forget to laugh,

well, there is always

the union of tearsā€”

the way many rivers

become one river,

the way many voices

become one song.


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