For Anthony Minghella
The train had left Atherton,
the trees brushed past my window.
I was going to San Francisco
to acting class, to Rachel,
and how Alan helped word her.
That’s when you told me
I was angry.
You had such a way of putting it,
of holding space for it to be.
You said anger was like tunnel vision,
you can’t see the bigger picture
when you focus on what you can’t change.
You have an angel’s hammer, Ant.
And so, you drove it home:
Do you know how many people
are angry at me
because I’m dead?
I turned my inner eyes at you
I wanted to see what you were seeing.
Past the screenplay you wrote,
past the forgiveness you’d known about.
You showed me an expanse of light
that was full
of things waiting to happen.
We want you to have all that, you smiled,
and be happy.