At Vow’s End

Our love once bloomed in

a fresh spring: that's where

you were perfect and pure as

though baptized in a triumphant morning --

But now you suffer through a bitter

winter: a disobedient sickness that

refuses to release you from its

long shadow -- And

All through the night, I hold your

hand: a delicate posture that requires

us to isolate ourselves within one

another's trust --

As you lie there, I look

into your eyes and see a

foreign distance --

oh, how far we have travelled

Down this road to the

stripping darkness, the moment

our love was made for