MISSED

 MISSED
 
I warmed the bed myself one night; the house was all my own.
If I’d been dead, I’d not have been more empty, more alone.
I cried for all who I had wronged; I dredged up all my sorrow
and promised God that I’d reform, but could I have tomorrow
without this poison in my heart, without this loathsome burden
of imaginary adversaries screamed by demons heard in
the corners of my mind gone wild with a raving jealous cancer.
Can I hold this innocent; make her spirits dance, her
precious, hungry, raging heart find calm contentment here?
Can she hold me as I hold her—so deafeningly dear?
Damn this passion anyway, this reckless, ruling heart.,
I’m glad she left but thrilled she’s back.
The grief when we’re apart
makes me laugh when, the bargain struck, He grants me sanity
and I wonder at the absence of my companion vanity.
Thank God for her, thank God for love where reason has no role.
She has my heart, my mind? Who knows?
Assuredly my soul.