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49 Silence Spoken Here What absence only can create needs absence to create it. Split by deaths or distances, we all survive like exiles from the time at hand, living where love leads us for love’s reasons. We tell ourselves that life, if anywhere, is there. Why isn’t it? What keeps us hostages to elsewhere? The dead possess us when they choose. The far stay nearer than we know they are. We taste the way they talk, remember everything they’ve yet to tell us, dream them home and young again from countries they will never leave. With friends it’s worse and better. Together, we regret the times we were apart. Apart, we’re more together than we are together. We say that losing those we love to living is the price of loving. We say such honest lies because we must—because we have 50 no choices. Face to face we say them, but our eyes have different voices. ...

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