What can she know of love
who never love has known?

The mistakes we make and then
occasionally the paths we take,
as we attempt to reach
the topmost pinnacles
of long sought for success,
may be nothing more than the sad contrail
that precedes our choice of a crooked trail.

And we may frequently end up
unable to achieve those sought for graces.

Sometimes we make the wrong choices
to get to the right places.

Many years ago
I had a dream.
I believed in innate goodness
and considered myself
an optimist.

Alas for Nature’s
nasty habit
of bringing one
face to face with
reality.

In sport
the arts
and politics . . .
Indeed
in every aspect
and area of my
existence
idols crumbled;
beliefs disintegrated;
hopes evaporated.

And now that dream is gone.

Why’d my train of thought
Halt before it got away?
It ran off the rails.

Tout ce que je veux, c’est toi.
Tout dont j’ai besoin, c’est toi.
Tout que j’admire, c’est toi.
Rien ne me manque, sauf toi.
Et
si je quitte le monde
je le quitterai content,
car
je t’aurai connu,
et toi, et toi, et toi.

Don’t tell me . . .
nothing
lasts forever.
I reject it.
And so far,
so good.

Don’t ask me . . .
to escape
my situation
by moving
to another place.
I am already there.

Don’t deny me . . .
my right
to grieve
For it is
my weapon
against anger.

Don’t mock me . . .
and tell me
where
you think
I ought to go.
I am already there.

Our lives were always
so interconnected,
so entwined.

Despite her years
of pain
and suffering,
her concern
for my wellbeing
was always
evident.

Since her death
my own health
has
miraculously
improved.
I am fitter now
than I have been
for years.

This morning
I awoke
to the most absurd
thought:
did she die
that I might live?