I lost her amidst the greyness of our lives.
She walked the other way without knowing why.
Something pulled her away.
Was it me?
I shouted at the dissolving clouds.
Engulfing her in their shadows.
I breathed amongst a million raindrops.
And lost my temper to the world.
I kept standing on my feet.
Tightening the rosary across my heart.
With every step she was taking, the grip reinforced itself.
I was looking at statues and wondered how they persevered.
I felt my head on the chopping block.
She had the knife and threw it away.
Where was I to go?
Her arms had deserted me, my body, entirely.
And yet I perceived her love dripping off her back.
Laying seeds for me.
It was in our memory, our inner sanctuary, the golden rays that never leave.
The ones that awake you if you let them,
The ones that cannot be robbed by the hands of reality.
“Portrait of Sarah Bernhardt” by Georges Rochegrosse (1859-1938)
