I’ve kept my Easter vigil.
Have you kept yours?
Lighting out love each night to ourselves,
I often gaze through my cup
At the barren table.

I can’t recall your scent;
Somewhere I misplaced it.
A memory is but a shard
Of nothing on the shelf,
A particle of imagination.

To manipulate our lives
And to mend our mistakes
Would be a conceit
That would promote self-reverence
And obscure the truth.

Somewhere I think we betrayed
A truth that we’d conceived.
However to relive the life would
Hurt more than help,
And I don’t want to hurt you.

Take my life for yours,
And know that I think of you
Often while blissfully staring
Through my clear crystal cup
At the barren table, me.

[fin]