Who’s ever heard
of a silent spell?
Isn’t it supposed to rhyme?
Shouldn’t it contain
the eye of something,
the tail of something else,
some leaves, some poison,
a cauldron, a fire,
and a whole lot of stirring?
But this spell can’t be manufactured.
All it wants is your attention.
All it wants is for you to feel
how it feels to end.
It wants you to lean
into loss and let it do
its slow work on you.
It doesn’t offer a magic word—
no word is magic enough
to do what must be done.
Which is to trust
the vanishing nature of things.
Which is to let the body
grasp and grasp and grasp
until at last it is ready
to release. Any spell
for ending well
knows its own uselessness.
It knows the importance
of silence. It knows
that anyone who would look up
a spell for ending well
already has exactly what they need.