When the lid is closed and I am gone

to ground or heaven

and you, sorting out my things, open up a box to find

the cards of friends or kids, lovers or sisters

know that I kept them not for me but for you

to see that for a moment I was held by a heart that beat

miraculously, entirely just for me!

That stash is big, it has a rhythm;

the pulse of a life without corporeal form,

except an origami girl or 2D page,

but I threw away all with mundane wishes

on leaving a job, or moving on,

cutting, marking another notch in time or occasion.

No.

The words that stay are ones that formed a scaffold around my crumbling heart

A refuge and bulwark in dry and lonely times.

So.

Keep the next tranche that now comes

To mark the passing of a complex soul

Who tried her best to be kind and to be whole.

20/03/2021