Somewhere in the night
she died, he said.
They would look there
for her, but she wouldn’t want
to be found.
I remember hanging with her
and with others who loved
what she loved.
All the dancing and the doing,
all the more and all together.
But I wouldn’t be one
who went looking.
She wouldn’t want to be found,
having died somewhere
in the night.
She would share
what she saw
and all the others
would bend and whirl
to see what she heard.
When we saw
what she could hear,
we could feel the peace
she felt and the thrills
that ran through her.
I could take you there,
to the place where she died,
but she would wish
not to be found
somewhere in the night.
