I've been waiting to grieve
as if
the aftermath of Death
will come calling
like a long-jilted lover.

Maybe
I have forgotten
how to miss
the dearly departed
and there will be
no more tears.

I've been watching the road.
Nobody wearing somber colors
has come
walking up the hill yet.

There is no
plaintive song
calling on the wind.

I was my brother's keeper
for many years.
Maybe
I am too angry
to weep.