For these a long night full of grief and anguish,
A vigil around a dying man’s bed.
A vigil waiting for news, so fearful.
All waiting as these together in an upper room.
But for us no cleansing wind or fire of love.
But the pall of silence as lights go out
And dreams fade into a life that was
And illusions of our permanence are broken again.
How we stand by the Dark River.
Not wanting to accept, less still to pay for this crossing.
Oh there is anger now, for it should not be this way,
For how can we be without this person?
Or this life that is so much of who we are of what we mean.
Songs for Huda 