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The Losses of Adrian Sponge


I made a list of losses in my diary the other day,
Said Adrian, to her reflection, on the bus.
I felt a tide of them rise up in me, steadily,
But found my pen stuck, resolute, at number one.

The empty list haunted me at every opportunity;
I avoided silent pen and paper throughout the day.
Sometimes thinking, because the first loss was so hard,
Or wondering if empty heart simply declined to say.

Surely grief must pass into the sea, as waves onto the shore;
A silent shade within the whole, keeping watch forevermore.
Gently bearing starfish and shoals of fish in hand,
Under all the silver weights of skies, and boats, and lands...

Cupping dove-winged gravity to fit its elemental curve,
Gently losing shape, reflecting stars above the worlds;
And shedding tears of salt for all the broken woes of man,
Slowly, giving, emptying, more than it can stand.