You May Never Know

4/19/22

The last time I saw him he was writing poetry on a park bench. Then he got up and walked into the water. He never came back. The leaves bristled in the air, and what I found was a poem, one he left right here:

Where do my thoughts go?
You may never know.
Where will I go?
You will never know.
Why must my steps
trail back to me,
to my next life —
to eternity?
You may never know.
How far will I go?
You may never know.
How do the birds fly
across the water
among the bottom
streaks of sky?
You may never know.
Will that ceremony
remain joyous,
remain matrimonious?
You may never know.
Will they step on each other?
You may never know.
Why did you walk on me?
You may never know.
Where did you go?
You may never know.
Maybe I’ll just go —
maybe I’ll never know.