The Sound. (Part 3)

I tripped over my own shoelace while I wondered what you were staring at. And it made me frustrated at the time that you didn't say anything, but only now do I realize you were trying to tell me with your eyes.

And talking without listening is a way to say you remember the past instead of hearing me now. Because losing that small anchor you had means that you cannot go back, even when you know the truth.
The places and people and things, all these proper nouns (now-ns) you hold in your heart, are long gone outside of you. Everything you have seen will live in you for as long as you have loved it and continue to do so. You cannot be lost from it. Not ever.

But it seems that no matter how far across the world I reach, you will keep looking at something else, at some other warning sign. And still, even in this isolation, I hope you feel all the warmth I have for you. I want you to do and get the best.

I hope, someday in a fairly distant future, I may be allowed to speak at your wake or throw dirt on your coffin. And then I will know how just peacefully you rest.

Originally performed on 1/27/11

Originally written on 3/29/09