Remembering a radio interview
with Hannah Arendt

I cannot let her go.
She’s grown within me.
I read her name
forward and backward.
She is gone.

I hear her pace
through thickets of thought.
gathering ideas
from either side,
bundling them.

Her words take root
beneath our feet.
They urge us to harvest
truth and lift our eyes
away from books.

I loved that voice,
a vehicle of trust
projecting (once,
Truth is
and I, unmetaphorical,

feel it, the Earth, 
on which we all stand,
and the Sky
that stretches far
above our heads.

And I can let her go.