Farewell, Sonja

I have studied the outlines
of so many shoulderblades,
the twenty-four vertebrae
of hundreds of beautiful spines.
Neck bones and hip bones,
the soft curves of hips and thighs.

This is goodbye,
over and over again.
I watch your back
as you recede into the distance,
turn the street corner,
get on to that train.

Just as I would like to
capture this golden 5am sunrise,
grasp it in my hand,
I would also like to do the same with you.

As I study your back
and your legs
walking away from me
on this familiar Spring morning,
I feel the weight 
of the morning dew around me.
I feel the weight of your farewell.

But as Osho says,
love cannot be held in a fist,
but only in the open palm of your hand.
​So it can breathe.
So it can fly.