Say no more
It's been years, too many years to count, and the memory of their voices has so many faces;
the world knows the way their words ring in court, a loud ritual of mocks and accusations —
and most know how it goes to melt in something else, a duet of steps journeying to the truth, because that is how it was always supposed to be;
their friends have seen tentative contacts, rows of sounds like why and don't and no, in the long years that led them to always end with a thank you;
the papers report fragments of their interviews, because ink on paper has no room for the gratitude that shines in their eyes —
as bright as their laughter, that of the young days where their voices met for the first time.
And what is funniest, after all they have said, is that silence is the best thing they have.