Yahrzeit

for Rosemarie

The narrow eye of time
opens the gate.

Untethered, the white horse
gallops

down the rut-mud road,
carrying

to the unbelieving ear
of the lover

news
of her belovèd’s death.

Each winter the gray dirge
sounds again

bitter memory, loss
and absence.

Yet the blessèd oil
of life

like a belated gift

anoints the lover’s ear
and eye

as the white horse,
patient envoy

waits nearby

in the snow field
between worlds.

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