If you come softly
As the wind within the trees,
You may hear what I hear
See what sorrow sees.
If you come lightly
As threading dew,
I will take you gladly
No ask more of you.
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 fears.
- Audre Lorde
