The longer spearhead of light

                      by Stephen Romer

One Year

One year on, the shawl is wrapped

soft round my shoulders and you everywhere

no messages since not a one

the vigil the watch and pray I knew not

watch and pray but that night I did

watch and pray for all I could

except you rose to meet my every move

in the looking glass only the fire

saved me from freezing at every move

where you rose to meet me

in the mirror and when I moved my

every move was a wading through time

the red shawl round my shoulders when

I was terrified to take it off again

and fall forever into the ungraspable

without a hand-hold climbed the stairs

the comfort blankiet my shroud

and you not leaving the night light.

Then you cleared your throat

at the the end of the passage

this is and is not, you.

Comfortless

Not, you shall not leave us comfortless

as comfort might be

sprays of forsythia over stone

and brisk steps on stone flags

going early through the porch

a trim little body

wrapped against the killing wind

as comfort might be

the longer spearhead of light

along the milled flags

at the opening of the door

as comfort might be

withdrawal and ingathering

a warmth among the ashes

at the start of Lent.




TLS March 1, 2013.