At first I craved to stay on in our house
A place familiar, comforting as love
Our bed the centre, loss and grief held close
The feel of wool, the blankets and the rugs

My  clothes had travelled while  for him I cared
So many I felt anxious, dispossessed
They in chaos, heaped on my arm chairs
Were a testament of my  distress

Books were scattered like small petals lost
Flowers of blood and bone  did not resist
Everwhere my pens and paper tossed
His pyjamas, ties,his books  had wanderlust

Once familiar, now a haunted  house
Everywhere I see the gaps he left
As my senses  on these places pounce
I unravel slowly from the warp and weft

The  narrow bed, the silence and the stair
The waking,sleeping, dreaming, am I here?
Should I run  or confront sweet despair?
Grief and loss bring on the panic fear.

I wait, unknowing that is what I do
There is no end,but  torture, oh damned pain
Until the mind has finished its review
Sketched its maps, made ready what remains

So at this inflection point I dwell.
Listening to the  silence, all is well