After Death's Silence Joseph Lisowski


My daughter enters our new house
on waves of music we listened to together
in our difficult island life.
The sun is crisp, Canadian air sweeps in.
I ask her what she thinks.
She only shakes her head.

I feel she's about to speak
but words are lost in transit
somewhere between impact
and that last breath.

I strain to hear her voice,
my own ears dammed with grief.

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