in the mourning

for L.M.R., sit tibi terra levis.

There is no great goodbye. A quiet word
is all we have before the curtain falls,
and all that’s left to say is never heard,
not even prayer can breach those steady walls.
A hellish stillness drops and we, bereft,
are left to swim in bitterness, regret,
the sadness floods into a hollow cleft.
Ai, even hopeful hearts would deign forget,
erase the hurt and burn away the love
that always ends with grief and shattering.
Just banish it away, and shoot the dove,
forswear the promises and cut the strings.

We live together but we die alone
and love–although it cuts us to the bone.