(A poem, that I wrote in 1992 in difficult circumstances for a friend of mine, was given to me recently. Reading something that I had written twenty-five years ago was a bit of a shock and I felt compelled to edit it. This is the reedited version. I am very grateful to my friend for keeping it so long and for valuing it.)
I sit with you, write. Your pain punctuates rich memories of her; your deep exhaustion a process in grief.
She will shortly die, too much to take in. It drains all your strength, courage, love of life. You weep, you despair.
Through the grey of loss your inner strength glints flashes of sparkling intelligent eyes, wide open bright smile.