Painting by V. Tomilovski
When I am sure that love is over,
That the door you closed, you will not open again,
I will wrap our memories around a stone,
And drop it in the sea.
I will watch our past sink, frothing and foam-frilled,
Still shedding sparks though the fire is dead.
Instead of worn-out shreds,
My hands will cup a pool of clear water,
A soft-bodied bird with a song in its throat,
A leaping fish, a leaping deer,
And a forest of golden leaves,
And these I will treasure, beneath the wide sky.
No hurt is in them, no pain,
No jealousy to unpick the dream, one thread at a time,
Until the emptiness shows through,
Only peace and the stately turning of the world,
Its bright colours changing and reforming,
Birth, rebirth, rose-hung and bud-burgeoning,
In a sea-swelling, river-running rhythm,
And a fierce, wild, endless joy.