The rhythm of the sea is the incessant wondering –
not if you loved but if you loved enough. An answer
that will only come with loss. The verbs of separation
conjugate in excruciating ways. Grief is a hyphen
connecting empty mirrors. Shouldn’t absence invalidate
a mirror? How much can you love a night not defined
by a moon or stars? Should such a night, be night? You
ask if it is the fault of the sky or the limits of love or of the
imperfect lover? Enduring darkness in the hope that
morning will come, is not love, it is faith in the light.
Love asks for more. At low tide, it asks you who you
are, after taking what you do not have and cannot give.