“All was taken away from you: white dresses, br wings, even existence. br Yet I believe in you, br messengers.” br —Czeslaw Milosz br br They say you don’t exist, br that when you come at night, br it is the curtain, light br br upon my trembling wrist, br that saves me from despair, br that it is I who bear br br the burden; I who pull br the trigger; I who wrest br the pistol from my chest. br br They say you can’t console br and that in truth I stride br alone without a guide. br br I don't know even now br as wind blows through the curtain br and hope begins to burgeon, br who touched my lowered brow.