In the long watch of that dread, darkened night,
New depths of waiting I unwelcome find.
As uncertainty continues to fight,
It’s caustic mist fogs and makes me blind.
I hold her hand and pray once more,
Conflicting petitions spluttered to God;
Worn tropes I’ve heard a thousand times or more
Crashing together forming phrasings odd.
Expectant well-wishers form a background
Reminding me of my forgotten cue,
But the lines are not so easily found
As, muddled, I venture far out of view.
But here I find new wells to sustain me,
Clandestine beauty for my eyes to see.
Written in the early morning on the day my wife died on Friday 6th July 2018.