What did you hear?
In dark space, alone with hours and minutes in a nightmare of years, what did you hear?
What did you hear, with your question so buried it could not be unearthed?
When your last was taken, when you asked for more, what did you hear?
Thunderous want and panicked grip deceived you, and you trusted once more.
And you tried. Once more.
But, what did you hear?
Sounds and words that never left you – were they to blame?
Did they out-shout joy and stifle laughter?
What defeated you and left nothing in place?
What did you hear when we called to you?
When we held out our hands you had already looked away.
There, a distance so great we lost you.
We waited. We would have waited forever.
We looked for you but could not see that you had stopped searching.
What did you hear at release of day?
What did you hear when you cried?
Did it become peaceful? Was it kind?
Were you answered?
At long last, when the question was silenced, were you heard?
In memory of Kirk Samples,
July 10, 1956 – October 19, 2002