ALL THAT'S LEFT

 

The moment when rain begins,

the letting go over and over again,

the cleaving open by joy, the ache

too deep for hand or mind to slake

as quenching gives way to thirst,

the release that cannot last.

 

Speaking my heart without answer,

spending it without recompense,

words going dead in my mouth

as I shape them and send them forth,

the halved-open heart

falling and falling short.

 

Knowing just one verb and one noun,

one actor and one thing acted upon,

you whom I cannot know

penetrating me through

as faith meets doubt or flesh meets flesh -

love meeting love, the only thing there is.