"I grieve with thee," four words I cannot say;
I cannot, must not, break my frail control.
Admitting grief is not the Vulcan way
But am I Vulcan? Partly? Not at all?
I cannot say "I loved him too, your son,
I knew him both in body and in mind."
The words are choked before they reach my tongue,
"He bravely died," the only words I find.
Spock told me once that I would have to choose
In which direction my allegiance lay.
He never told me how it hurt to lose;
I see now why he chose the Vulcan way.
So many feelings must remain untold;
I grieve with thee, my heart is speared with cold.