... to think of the right thing to say too late
-- Robert Frost

wait for me in the shore of that time where you are,
I want to enter the shared
I will not arrive with the stridence of car horns
or the urgency of a subject hanging in the air,
nor in a long dress
or in a cape,
I will not wear shadows in my eyes
nor a mask for the usual rites
and much less with painted fingernails.
Don't be afraid to see my first souvenir
nailed to my back:
no complaint of pain or joy.
I will enter the sphere where you are
like a cloud of silence
that speaks without breaking
and I will give you a hand so you can help me enter
- home is a place where we go
knowing what awaits us --
you said it with other words.
The clothing doesn't matter.
Wait for me,
I want to tell you things I didn't say,

those which drowned themselves
with the anchor of circumstances
tightening around one's neck.