There is a heart-shaped longingat the center of this life,
an emptiness behind, below,
the lush green spring-filled wonder
of love and life and growing.
These tender fingers which caress,
the arms enfolding,
the whispered endearments --
all remain firmly outside
this aching void,
which, left untended,
sends a crack
that threatens to shake us to our roots.
But as the sun curves through the day
carving its great bright arc in the sky
the hole fills briefly with illumination
and then subsides again into darkness,
a darkness warmed
by memories of light.
* * *
No comments:
Post a Comment