At The Wall

The window is heavily shuttered and veiled
as if barricaded against a fearsome storm.
I call out to you to return, but the wind captures
my warning and wrenched across rooftops
and tortured through the crowns of trees, my words
twist into the wail of one who is lost in losing you.
A downpour releases the odor of humid earth
admonishing me to burrow deeply in planting
my roots in our love, to cultivate the memory
of your life, the seeds of your passing never to bloom
into something as beautiful and loving as you.

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