My singular solitary existence of
Days filled with unfulfilled hopes, lost dreams.
A resignation of sorts
No expectations = no heartbreaks.
I can’t take yet another chance
No more, it’s not worth it.
Or is it?
Maybe with faith some forgotten hopes can be remembered
Maybe I can still see his face,
Feel his breath upon my neck,
Run my fingers through his
Beautiful silver hair.
The fantasy continues,
Death cannot stop this love.
Death cannot dissolve the truth,
The love, the tenderness.
Death took him from me
I cannot loosen its grip.
Death’s stronghold clouds my vision of him,
Makes it harder and harder to picture his face.
Harder and harder to hear his voice,
Feel his touch.
Death is a selfish thing,
Keeping him all to itself.
Unwilling to share
To let me see and remember.
It tries to convince me that I have lost
That he belongs to it now, but that is just another of death’s lies.
He is safe now, safe on the other side
Behind the vale, the boundary between these two worlds.
Death was only the vehicle to take him across,
It holds no power over him.
He speaks to me of our love
In my dreams.
He causes the wind to blow my hair
Across my face as if to imitate his hand.
I feel his light and strength in the darkness and
See his smile in the sunshine.
Yes, death has cheated me, has taken a part of my soul
Away and left me in sadness.
But its power is only in my letting,
My allowing, my perspective.
I can and will change that and death
Will no longer be a barrier to he and I
And someday I will take his hand once more
And together we will walk through the field,
Smell the milkweed blooms again and rest
In the tall grasses of peace and beauty
And death will have lost its final battle
And we shall be free.
heartwordsforpoetry 