I don’t know how

to get to you,

where you are buried

invisible and small.

Your voice not a whisper,

but the perfect volume

oh, despite what

the other voices say.

Your opinions are

bottled, sealed.

Do you know them?

Hear them?

I will dig here

in this hard ground

because I miss you,

miss remembering you.

In this place

where lie the

consequences of a

quietly silenced heart.

—jennifer j. camp