Where may I find my so long absent love
Whom in the eyes of distant history,
The subject many future sonnets of,
Will closest of all loves be known to be?
Where is that heart consents to reach across
The fearsome barriers which separate
Those who have suffered devastating loss
From those who may stability create?
And where the spirit built to understand
That though death might stand knocking at the door
This word will not be false, this heart, this hand
Given in perfect truth — and not before
Genuine kiss press to the treasured brow:
More than ever before, I need him now
Among us, poets are not paid. The poet/editor of this website, being physically disabled, lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level, and is presently homeless. Become a patron of the fine arts at: https://www.gofundme.com/are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts