on her going to the market (for Lan)

whenever you go outdoors
the sun starts to fume
for losing brilliance
in the face of yours
and night appears more beautiful
for your walking through it
but the house you leave
becomes a desert awaiting rain
it becomes a sea without a single wave
without ships   even without a shore
after infinities of longing
at last I hear your step
I hear you open the door
all at once I’m without and within
there is night again and day
once more there’s waking
and again there is dream

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll  2014

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