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Into your loneliness

we place our voices,

hoping our words

might comfort your wounded heart.

We do not mean

to remind you

of all you have lost

by extolling the manifold virtues

of your husband

now gone, but we are foolish

in the face of grief,

never knowing whether

to share our own

or simply listen to yours.

In truth, we know, without knowing,

there is nothing we can do,

nothing better, nothing worse;

grief spreads its wings

and only flies

when it is ready to fly,

and it will fly,

it will spread itself

across the sky,

becoming a gentler being in your world,

lighter and more forgiving.

It will, it will.

This much I know.

This much, at least,

I can give you.

for A

Edward Lee's poetry, short stories, non-fiction and photography have been published in magazines in Ireland, England and America, including The Stinging Fly, Skylight 47, Acumen and Smiths Knoll. His debut poetry collection "Playing Poohsticks On Ha'Penny Bridge" was published in 2010. He is currently working towards a second collection.

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