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
The sun sinks but it burns like a great fire;
All the sky’s aflame with fierce intent;
Who thinks of death as weakness, is a liar
Before the end our glory must be spent.
The graphics of the branches look Chinese
As blackened brush is drawn across red silk
Infinite yet countable my days
Running like a river without silt
Thus I am not transcendent in myself
But joined to all that lives I feel I am.
In conjunction we will find our health
Ambivalence contains both lion and lamb.
The fire of orange leaves me with a glow
As into night I with all creatures go