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Authors:

If you come as softly. As wind within the trees. You may hear what I hear. See what sorrow sees. If you come as lightly. As threading dew. I will take you gladly. Nor ask more of you. You may sit beside me. Silent as a breath. Only those who stay dead. Shall remember death. And if you come I will be silent. Nor speak harsh words to you. I will not ask you why, now. Or how, or what you do. We shall sit here, softly. Beneath two different years. And the rich earth between us. Shall drink our tears.

Audre Lorde