In the absence of love,
feeling heartily whole
in the cavernous loss
I make home of the hole
fill the space with the grace
and the feelings of feeling the loss.
Breathtaking the space between fingers,
enfolding in empty
artistic creation in jagged lungs
no longer breathing Them in.
How lovely to be loved,
but all the more in the lonely
to see both sides and survive
standing and shaking
and to love art all the more,
to grow in understanding
I'm understanding.
Left shaking,
still standing.