It is a second dying

if I do not move beyond

the death of the one I love

to another place

where life is renewed

and hope returns

like a spring flower in bloom.

 

For in not moving, the

winter land of memory

starts to chill my bones and

overwhelms me with

the cold sparse death

of my lingering suffering soul.

 

But in moving to the place

of spring’s sweet and sunny face,

the memories of my love now gone

are not lost or somehow replaced

but find a new home in

the colours of spring’s adoring smile,

where memory comes out

of winter’s bitter walls

and paints my love afresh

in the season’s new light.

 

13/2/2017