The ontology of the past
and its uncanny relation
to the present.
I sit at a memorial
for a man
I barely knew,
in a house fragrant
with wine, incense
and sweat.
People speak his name
as if language
could persuade the dead
or us.
The yearning for being
without negation.
The longing for wholeness
that is itself fractured,
never whole,
and already
always whole.
A man found dead,
alone,
in his car,
in a foreign city.
We gather to say
he is not lost,
though loss
is the only thing
we know.
The past waits
in the candles,
in the one empty chair,
in the reading
about the wind
from Dōgen,
in our tears
and pauses.
About the Author: Jacob Friesenhahn is the author of the poetry collection The Prayer of the Mantis (Kelsay Books, 2025). This poem appears here for the first time.
See Michael Brinkman