Never Again

The chances
that I will ever see my children again
are probably none.

People say don’t give up hope.
People say time heals.
People say what they need to say.

But time does not heal everything.
Sometimes it only carries things farther off.

The years pass.

My son on the beach,
the kite pulling hard in the wind,
his small hands learning
when to hold on,
when to let the string run.

My daughter under the school lights,
singing as Dolly,
and me in the audience
watching her become
more herself.

These do not vanish all at once.

First they grow distant.
Then faint.

And what remains
is not even grief exactly
but the place grief made,

still there,

after the sound is gone.