For you

And if you missed a day, there was always the next,

and if you missed a year, it didn’t matter,

the hills weren’t going anywhere,

the thyme and rosemary kept coming back,

the sun kept rising, the bushes kept bearing fruit—

– Sunrise, by Louise Glück

But who were you when you were a young man before you left because you didn’t know the future or the things to come?

What would’ve enticed you before you started asking who did this to you, who did this to you?

Before you began asking afterwards why me, why me?