WILLIAM S. KILGORE

Sad Time

If I could think of something to say,
anything that could even begin to help,
I'd stay here talking day after day,
as I know tragedy has left you frail.

Advice, easy to give those in despair,
standing firm, on the happier side.
But maybe they just want to know I care,
stranded sad places, as they cry.

I know this moment is your sad time,
and I want to respect that fragile space.
Many times, such times have been mine,
tracks of tears trickling down my face.

In such times, there is nothing to do,
other than to be present with you here.
To sit quietly with you in the room,
venting your grief and bending my ear.

This minute, I know you want to die,
feeling as if nothing really matters.
Believing that there's no reason why,
as your entire life lay there shattered.

I want to tell you that it will get better.
I don't really know that for certain.
For now, I volunteer to be your debtor,
continuing to listen, as you unburden.

As you unload, sorting through the issues,
I will stay here to take up the slack.
I will run, retrieving that box of tissues,
resting a comforting hand on your back.

Until you're ready to consider next moves,
a close friend is all you need right now.
My occupation, in this moment: to soothe.
There will be time later to figure it out.

Your entire existence has fallen apart,
and everything has turned out bad.
Believe me, I hear and have your heart,
in this time, reserved for the sad.

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