for jerry

Earlier this year someone I had never met, someone I had never even spoken to, someone I knew solely through our correspondence on the internet, died.
In spite of all that I thought of him as a good friend and a great writer, perhaps flawed by too much modesty about his ability. I didn’t want to write something I was less than happy with as a memorial so I have worked hard at this one. This extended cinquain is dedicated to him.

.

for jerry

caesura:
a voiceless void
advanced upon our noise
and suddenly that void became
his voice

no more
his life, his tales,
his truth, his fiction – his:
all gone save echoes in our hearts
that fade

beyond
that moment, what?
our own mortality,
that proven later leaves less mark
behind?

until
our final voice
no longer claims a place
in thoughts that lie outside itself
alone.