Thursday, July 13
MEMORIAL, VIRTUALLY SPEAKING
This, then, is the closure: the knowledge that there is none.
The birds in the sky are as much the sky as the river is. The river is
a music I'll never learn, I'll have to admit at some point. Then make
admission the closure. And the loss of voice, and the loss the voice
wishes to utter. Maybe closure is the first loss, the first order
of business, is sealed until its time has come; and, when the time
never comes, is the one thing, in never arriving, that remains
just as we need it. Who would want to say our work is complete?
The loss and the bird and the sky and the voice and the river are all undone.
(Matthew Kelsey)