An icon, and a shrine

She holds
some part of herself
now lost forever
tenderly in her arms,
an icon and a shrine
to the promise that once was
and now will never be.
Mourning her loss,
she fails to see
the blessings that could emerge
from one man's willingness
to give it all up --
to leave the separation
that is now;
to step boldly
through the pain of transformation
into the wholeness that will come
when hate and greed
and blame and shame
are left behind
to moulder in the cave of self.


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