The End of the Temple of Tears

 

all I have left of you

are two pictures

one of you framed in the sliding glass window

right in front of me

another of you

taken somewhere in the labyrinth of Detroit

 

seven years of submerged agony over your death

have left me less than whole

your sweet voice still tingles beside my left ear

whispering advice when I am at impasse

 

sometimes I see you standing in front of me

angry at my unwillingness to rise out of my pathos

the lovely focused intensity

that made me love you so much

whirling around your eyes

 

today I saw a single yellow crocus

that had broken through the damp spring soil

and I thought of you

I decided to swear an oath to you

that my years of penance in the temple of tears

were finished

and that I would begin to live life again

just like you’ve been advising me to do

 

all these undisturbed years

that have somehow passed me by

are dust in the wind

but the sun will rise tomorrow

and I will stretch out on the cool emerging grass

and remember the light touch of your graceful hand

and I will persevere