Last year on January 30th, my friend Dr. José Fernandez died of a heart attack on his way to work at a nearby hospital. He collapsed on the sidewalk in front of his home. It was an unbelievable shock. José had been caring for patients in the ER since the pandemic began; a doctor gone from the front lines was an awful loss. The saddest I felt was for Scott Hightower, José’s partner of forty-one years. They were so happy together that the thought of that bond ending in the blink of an eye was heart-wrenching.

I visited Scott last week, brought him some banana bread filled with cranberries, raisins and figs. It’s so good to visit, to sit and talk with a friend; catching up has its insights and gossip is always a pleasure.

Scott told me he’d been writing poems every day since José’s death. Much of it he would never publish. When Scott read two elegies he had been working on, it was all of the moment. He had put on a silly chicken hat to recite and I recorded him on my iPhone. We discussed redoing it later more formally with a better camera, but there was no need to do it again because it is perfectly poignant the way it is. 

THE WORLD IS FULL OF BEAUTIFUL THINGS

Over slippery stones
and through swirling streams,
he is my steady, soothing counsel.

He wouldn’t have liked
growing into an aging
body. He is beautiful.
And today he dies.

He will never have to suffer
any disabling disease or illness,
or the corruptions of time.

He has it pretty good.
He has money in his pocket.
And my love. He will never have to grieve

losing me. This is Saturday.
A bluebird sky. He will not have to
be out Tuesday shoveling snow.

Designed to pass. Hang in there.
This morning, this day,
still intertwined. This day too,
will pass. His shadow.

He will not have to percolate decisions.
He will not have to seek peace beside
the still water. He will not have to endure

the stars in the sky. He will be thought.
He will not have to endure the kindness
of friends or strangers, the stares

of a city. He will not have to wait
for the scattering, even hope
for the shattering of new love.

He will not have to walk
through the days ahead
as if he owned them.

EL MUNDO ESTÁ LLENO DE COSAS HERMOSAS
 
Sobre piedras resbaladizas
y a través de corrientes arremolinadas,
él es mi firme y tranquilizador consejo.
 
No le hubiera gustado
creciendo en un envejecimiento
cuerpo. Él es bello.
Y hoy muere.
 
Él nunca tendrá que sufrir
cualquier enfermedad o dolencia incapacitante,
o las corrupciones del tiempo.
 
Lo tiene bastante bien.
Tiene dinero en el bolsillo.
Y mi amor. Él nunca tendrá que llorar
perdiéndome. Este es el sábado.
Un cielo de pájaro azul. El no tendra que
salir el martes a palear nieve.
Diseñado para pasar. Cuelga ahí.
Esta mañana, su día,
todavía entrelazados. Este día también,
pasará. Su sombra.
 
No tendrá que filtrar decisiones.
No tendrá que buscar la paz al lado
el agua quieta. Él no tendrá que soportar
 
las estrellas en el cielo. Él será pensado.
No tendrá que soportar la bondad
de amigos o extraños, las miradas
de una ciudad. El no tendrá que esperar
para la dispersión, ni tendrá que esperar
para la rotura de nuevo amor.
El no tendrá que caminar
a través de los días venideros
como si fuera su dueño.
 

…

LONE BIRD ON THE WATER

No drama. Some lonely, foolish
sentimental moments. Some poised,
some not so poised; but all on track.
Be it the first of many more
adventures or one of the last…
be it one of the good ones. With you,
even the dismal was beautiful.

PÁJARO SOLITARIO EN EL AGUA
 
Sin drama. Algunos solitarios, tontos
momentos sentimentales. Algunos preparados,
algunos no tan equilibrados; pero todo encaminado.
Sea el primero de muchos más
aventuras o una de las últimas…
sea uno de los buenos. Contigo,
incluso lo lúgubre era hermoso.