Poetry of place

In the after of loss

when the storm abates

and there is nowhere else to go

and what was energising now enervates

that diminishing atrophying all cause

what comes now as surprise

was not once what was in your eyes

to think of what awaited what was dreamt of

the crumbling of which seems macabre

never of what was could that be more unlikely

never at the core could the past be seen to be a furore, and end so swiftly

just when turning to everything

was to be where we were

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but in the passing maybe a coming about, a possibility of return

a place where eyes could meet

and in that look no words needed

but that is it, isn't it

there is nowhere to go

but only there

where the heart suffers

for being that which is love

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