Perhaps we could have
seen it coming. That’s
what everyone likes
to say after the world
changes. But there
are things we cannot see,
losses we cannot foretell.
And the world is always
changing, My friend Barry
writes, it is easy to be
an addict of losses,
defining ourselves
by what isn’t there.
And then we tell
the endless versions
of what if and if only and
hush. That’s enough.
Nothing lasts. Not
the glittering rime
on the willows. Not
the lovers lips, not the crystal
dish. Even the longing
we knew would last
shifts. How we love
to visit the ruins. Here,
come walk with me the paths
of this still breaking heart.