Poem by George Theoharis


                                                      For John Patilis

When I die


when you go to sleep at night

the eyes that saw you and believed you.

Recall the eyes

that brought your truth to the lips

like the pine needles

draw the blood of your arm.

When I die

listen to the steps that muddied

your door step in those desperate days.

Listen to the steps which

brought the fresh dream

in your good soul.

When I die

listen to the silence of sounds

among the people’s chatter.

Listen to them

they’re my body’s orphan words

that travel in time.

Silence is the words of all who didn’t speak

not because they didn’t want

but because their tongue was a treeline among which nightingales always sang.