I STAYED ALONE FOR YEARS, AS THOUGH IN VISCOUS WAIT

I stayed alone for years, as though in viscous wait,
For hope-filled eyes of yours that still might rise once more;
Beside the wells of worlds I slowly count my fate,
And mark the nights split into halves I can’t ignore.

Till twelve, the night is steeped in longing, pain and dread;
Past twelve, in dreams and nightmares, tangled, bitter, cold.
I know our marriage was not flawed though when it wed,
It broke through deeds we chose, not flaws we had to hold.

My Lord, —no fear for knees that shake or bodies frail
Now grips my heart, no longer aching, long since scarred;
For you a door still set ajar beyond the veil,
I may have hurt, yet never meant to be your mar.

December of two thousand nine, I knew it then:
You did not name yourself, but called me back from dust;
You drew me into life again, remade my broken pen,
Till pasque flower rose from heart-ash, faint, yet brave and just.

It wounds me still to speak these words to you aloud.
Lord knows this pain keeps death at bay, lest I omit.
I rasp and cry and struggle on, half shattered, aching, proud,
Prepared to shout: “Stand back, you fiends of death—be free of me!”

I’m asking you—dear Esther, hear my plea at last;
Grant me not drink, but sing, in rapture full and clear;
May none of our most fragile bonds now tear;
Preserve our circle, frail, yet closed and ever fast.