Grief.

Now that you are dead
The dawn is a blank curtain
Pulled across the sun
To hide the light.

Your voice on the chrome cassette,
A mono echo of time past
Relayed through a single speaker
In the corner of my room.

My hand that held your hand
Now only grasps the air
That once you breathed:
The air you filled with song
When I first spoke your name.

Paper flowers in the vase
Have turned as grey as ash,
Grey as your brittle bones
Now buried in the earth.

And yet our yesterday
Is as clear and bright as spring
In the confines of my mind,
The jewel box of my memory.

But the contents are just a mirage
Flashed on a silver screen;
They remain as insubstantial
As your sweet recorded voice.

I do not long for death,
But without you life seems empty,
A shadow of the clear bright days
That once we knew.

I do not long for death,
But I need a private sanctuary
Where I can learn to make my peace
With this dark remorseless pain.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
August 30th. - 31st. 2015.
September 8th. 2015.