Faces and names I’ve not forgotten
held in my bones and memory.
I touched the flesh of each one,
listened to their electric thoughts.
I still can hear their voices as once
we played catch, drove wildly, walked
sacred paths, gazed unknowing
down the corridor laid before us –
at its end a door closed
before I could get there.

My first best friend
playing from yard to yard
stole away one afternoon
and has not come back.

I knew a guy for a little while
who could make me laugh.
No word for forty years.
A few days ago he went away.

My high school friend died.
His white Mustang carried us
through our town, cruising
with all the others.

My brother went back home
and cared for our mother.
Both have gone through the door
but my questions remain.

He was working his work
high up in the wires.
His work carried him away
on a warm desert day.

Hers is a familiar story
of one who should not be gone.
She is gone and in death
I wrote a poem about her.

That’s enough for now.
There are many others.
I’ve lost track of most
and I’ll probably never know.

May all of my faithful departed
through the mercy of saints
and angels, heaven and earth
rest in peace.

Portland, Oregon – All Hallow’s Eve, October 30, 2019