Rest well, Ms. Morrison. And from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Someone Leans Near

Someone leans near

And sees the salt your eyes have shed.

You wait, longing to hear

Words of reason, love or play

To lash or lull you toward the hollow day.

Silence kneads your fear

Of crumbled star-ash sifting down

Clouding the rooms here, here.

You shore up your heart to run. To stay.

But no sign or design marks the narrow way.

Then on your skin a breath caresses

The salt your eyes have shed.

And you remember a call clear, so clear

“You will never die again.”

Once more you know

You will never die again.

-Toni Morrison