Proofs II

She went on ahead and
round the corner and
I can only stumble here
and weep my tears
at lack,  this giant
space in me she
cut when she left - a good
half of me is gone
and the half left
unprimed, not strong,
and I must bumble on
in the days she left me,
wondering what it
means to live and die
and love when all
your light is taken
should one go
on ahead before you
and leave nothing
but things that should
have been said
hanging in the air.

I am made
heavy with care
and all my movements hurt,
my bones are soft
and my walk curtailed -
in single steps I take
paining - so much
left unsaid - I would
give all I have
to have her here,
my life made
dark and thin - these
austere days
my wooden table
my plants untrimmed
the standard lamp -
all flags to
my being but
blinded by grief
I cannot see it
and sieze-up when
I try to move.

God help me -
without her
I have so much to prove.
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