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