MAZES

The hedge is thick. Loose twigs lash at our eyes
-you’d think a gardEner would prune them neat.
My cheeks sting. There’s a tangle at my feet
and in my head. And every lover tries

to walk this maze or others with some grace.
We do not blush to lose, but to be lost
embarrassing humiliating cost
of loving. We all end up in this place

dark and confused, unable to turn right
though people always tell us that’s our way
to find the centre, the way out. It’s day
or was just now, yet suddenly it’s night.

I’ve walked for hours and hear her lonely cry.
Somewhere in darkness, she’s as lost as I.

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About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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3 Responses to MAZES

  1. stevegreen says:

    We do not blush to lose, but to be lost
    embarrassing humiliating cost
    of loving. We all end up in this place

    Roz, that cuts to the quick: grief is the price of love.

    I’ve walked for hours and hear her lonely cry.
    Somewhere in darkness, she’s as lost as I.

    I hear Ann’s almost every night. She haunts me, but it’s a ghost I embrace, because it’s the ghost of our love.

    • rozkaveney says:

      Steve – I hadn’t thought of this in terms of loss through death, though obviously I know that too. I was thinking of the way some relationships die for other reasons – I am glad if this helped with your rather more serious grief.

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