Spring Triduum, Two.
Another stole the dream
we dreamt in the meadows of love;
we were bold, we were wild
till we lingered on.
In the meadow, we lay on the grass
we whispered tender words of devotion,
we imagined our embrace out of linear time,
we carved out our spiral of belonging,
we entwined our limbs and our hearts
till the slanting sun went down
on the graveyard: we walked in silence
to the hilltop, the city of grey
and red bricks sprawled below.
Dark clouds projected their shadows
on the places of the living and of the dead.
Love and death walked hand in hand.