The end, when we all come together and see the different facets of someone. All the disparate parts that make a life, and we only ever really know our own.
Echoed in everyone here
there is a memory
or a moment to take away.
A reason lost
on the return journey.
So many times you come to mind
in half-light and knowledge.
We cluster in circles of knowing you,
Small islands of people
adrift in wondering how you touched them
and us as well and yet we didn’t know.
All links in a chain that melts like a final memory.
All knowing you have been here and knew us all.
And even with the space left behind
the circles continue crossing slightly.
Each part of the link that joins another,
a chain of contact we hold to
in the storm of departure.