Without His Face
knew myself in his face when he lived
But now I have no mirror,I’m alone.
I learned myself reflected in his love.
An actual mirror seems like a dull stone
I was alive when mirrored his eyes
For those who hate us do not give us life.
What’s the answer when when the loved one dies?
Without a husband there can be no wife.
All alone my blood seems not to flow.
The wellspring of my heart is arid,dry.
My hands curl up protective on my heart
I have no tears and so I cannot cry.
Yet I bleed inside from every part.
So where is my reflection, where my grace?
I feel I cannot live without his face.
Copyright © Mary Braithwaite | Year Posted 2022
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