I was warned

I was warned that I would forever be aware

Of this newly erupted crater in my viscera.

I was told that I should try to live my life

Skirting around the still glowing embers on its edges.

I was advised to hold on to happy memories.

My happy memories are like letters to Santa Claus,

Whisked away and charred by the flames of my pain.

These are not embers.

They are hot flaming lumps hissing and spitting lava

They devour my happy memories

Throw up blazing hungry flames of loss in my face

Recalling Dante and Faustus

And here I am forever begging the eternal power

To give me back one moment,

Half a moment

A painful, pitiful third of a moment

Of time to tell him yet again

“I love you more than life.”

My brain yammers “The Lord is my shepherd”

My heart rails against it, “I do want.”

And then because I remain on this side

Of the Valley of the Shadow of Death

I need to turn away every day and carry on.

Have breakfast desiccated by the shamal of regret

That sits like bloodied jam on my crispbread

Then rises with the bile of my sorrow

I douse those living coals with more tears.

They hiss and spit some more.

I have work.

It shuts the door of my heart until nightfall

When that dreaded Hell called loneliness

Limned with regret at words unsaid

Deeds undone

Assertiveness cowed by convention.

Opens its blazing red door once more.