Divination
The future is a dazzling sphere
into which I cannot stare.
Nor can I grasp an enormity so vast
as a life without you here.
The limits of sight are imposed
on world-sized eyes; the future, nebulous,
shines, blinds, or grows bleak and cold,
and darkness itself becomes a grace bestowed.
For all the occult arts: smoky swirls,
dogbane and spells, pellet of owl,
spirits summoned from the netherworld--
none can return one hour of all we've known.
Weathers of the heart, storms that rage,
all that is frail, wind-tossed and aged,
whatever can separate the living from the dead--
none of these can be foretold, withheld.
Now we balance the sphere of each brief day,
not in fear but in infinite praise, saying
over and over, "I love, I love,"
our one incantation, our one prayer.
At last when we lie side by side,
though bones and dust, we shall be whole.
For we will know the other's there.
My buddy, sleep now for a while;
I am here and all is well.
Though eons come and go,
we've had our lives, and we were blessed.
Under grass there is no death.
Sue Scalf
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