My heart fragments into the stained glass
of Saint Mary’s Church.
You’ve been holding court
waiting for your Requiem Mass,
I was the last to leave last night.
I follow you out of the church,
empty with the thought of losing you,
every sense lost at sea,
you got the-all clear,
just two weeks ago,
the black dog is my shadow.
Heartache is not a hidden burden,
but a profound depth of love,
it lingers in the echoes of laughter,
in the memory of music and holidays,
remembering our deep understanding.
When Father John Paul read you your Last Rites,
you moved towards his sign,
God only knows the struggle behind your eyes,
before the chain broke,
the heart I gave you still warm in your palm,
time has slipped through our fingers
like the rosary beads in your other.
I packed up your clothes,
an old friend told me
grief reshapes you,
you’ll grow into the space,
I remember when we moved into our home.
