In his gaze,rooms of the dead; halls of loss; fog-emerald; driven, dirty-rice snow:he was in there somewhere, I looked for him,and he gave me the gift, he let me in,knowing he would never once, in this world or inany other, have to do it again,and I saw him, not as he really was, I wasstill without the strength of anger, but Isaw him see me, even nowthat dropping down into trust's affectionin his gaze, and I held it, some seconds, quiet,and I said, Good-bye, and he said Good-bye
-Sharon Olds
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