Interim

I am so tired

Waiting for my heart to break,

Waiting for tears to heal my soul,

For a blessed hand to melt away

The agony within me.

Aeons since you went from me

into an alien world. And still

Stranger to beauty are all my days,

My nights dark makings of libations

Where once the myrtle grew!

I could carry the weight of winter,

The glory of autumn nights and days,

But I cannot bear the spring.

And I am ill, unto death, my Beloved!

Sick with longing, sick with weeping,

Waiting for my heart to break.