Cold autumn pavements carry mourning,
your whispered voice drifts on the breeze,
but I can't catch the words you send me,
like dying leaves lost to the trees.

I stand like stone on this cold pavement,
paralysed by all I feel,
but Dark Rhiannon surges past me;
Her dark-eyed challenge tinged with steel.

For I have been scarred by your passing,
your story carved into my skin.
Such beauty in the depths of leaving.
Such fear to let these feelings in.

I dread these waves that tower above me,
am threatened by the undertow,
but know that I cannot outrun them
and in their tides my healing sow.

This grief like horses drags me onward
When I would rest and dream you whole.
For I would die to journey with you,
but grief's wild currents claim my soul.

And, if I dare, I will ride with them;
allow this pain to wash me wild.
Or I could stay on this cold pavement;
deny the woman, stay the child.

So you will journey with your dying
and I will journey with my grief.
But we will touch on this cold pavement;
love whispered in an autumn leaf.

©Jacqui Woodward-Smith
(11th  September 2007 - 11th  August 2008)