Seymour

Because you knew Death could be
both innocent and sly,

as clever as a child,
as private, as self-aware.

You were the one who noticed
how grown-ups passed her by

the one who knelt down to say
“Don’t cry!”

then realized
you were the one crying.

Because you understood the special bond
between children and madmen –

how they both look at the world
from very far away –

and knew that for all her talk
she was only pretending,

trying to be brave,

you gave her your hand to take,
went with her,

both of you helpless,
both keeping the other safe.