On the way back
Through Granada
Late,
The sun sets
Behind the Sierra Nevada,
Burning blood red
Charcoal streaks
Across the sky,
The sun is dying,
Pulling far away,
Light fading within itself.

You died like this sunset
In your clean hospital bed,
All neatly folded sheets.
There was the light in your eyes,
Quickly fading,
You were there,
You were gone,
You were dead,
In the morning
Sun rising.

The sunset touches
The death chord,
It’s empty sound,
Sonorous
Beyond sadness.

Between your birth,
Your death,
There were no finite number
Of sunsets.
The final sunset came
And, in the morning,
You had to go.

For you, now dead
Are there sunsets
You may still see?
How can I know?

For me,
Still living,
The sunset
So different now,
The fading light,
The empty chord,
A quality of silence,
Unforgettable.

In the morning,
The sun will rise.

You will be gone.