Someone new may speak
if I, today, keep silent.
Be still, for you
cannot utter a word
worth saying,
And any chair
that’s empty here,
no syllable as dear as
the space it rushes to occupy,
that’s someone
who is dying:
which left empty might be
another’s in-drawn breath.
Find him.
Italicized stanzas are from Franz Wright’s poem Alder Street, included in his 2006 collection, God’s Silence.
Meditatio Ephemera 
empties
my
chair 🙂
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