I cast my bread on the waters,
what I’d wanted and loved
shuffled off on a raft, waved,
promised to call
then never looked back.
Sometimes grief braids a rope,
crafts a cage or a prison.
I set the last brick, found a noose
coiled round my neck.
What could I do but build a scaffold
and climb to this common vista,
The Life You Wanted is Gone.
You Are Here, the map says
then disappears.
You are here, field with no roads,
wildflowers, sky,
not knowing
you are just a brown sparrow,
mounting the wind.