NO OTHER LIFE

 

In the pause between lives, we did not recognise ourselves

at first. Perhaps you were beardless – a young man, or shaven

 

on your deathbed. Maybe I laid down my glasses – absent

minded – remembering our common lineage, the farewells

 

we had to settle for. In letters from behind the fallen

Iron Curtain, your love who could not leave the snow-bound woods,

 

her homeland occupied. Those were the rules of engagement –

‘Blessed are the peacemakers’ became your chosen mantra.

 

Within that settlement I’ve drawn breath, made my own choices

sometimes, whether bad or better. But now my years creep up

 

on yours. We’ll climb this hill to its triangulation, hug

each other, see below a new world order on the brink

 

and cling to my inheritance, a gift for platitude:

you always said the darkest hour is just before the dawn.

 

ii. 2025