Meltdowns

I surrender.
I fall into myself,
diminish, lose my ugly colours,
let all vain thoughts and plans
evaporate.
I inhabit this body,
solid, heavy with grief.
I have not the strength to pray
for all the things I want and think
I should get;
I can only whisper,
'Let it not be.
Tell me what to do.
Please carry this burden.'
What false loves there are
for people, things, doings and goings,
it doesn't matter.
I don't want it.
My only love
is for him.

That a new love and light could
still spark from
the agonising disaster of the
foolishness of years of sleep,
irresponsibility, indifference
is a miracle
or a terrible, crushing irony.
Whatever I try so desperately
to grasp, it doesn't matter.
I can only love him,
hold space for him,
try to be strong, hoping
it will saturate him,
give away all the suffering,
saying, whatever you're going to
take away from me, it doesn't matter.
It was you who gave it to me, it is you
who have the power to take it from me.