Widowhood

At the end of the old canal
directly opposite from the ocean
she stands, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

Though her pallor is eternal
widowhood, her dress is clear blue
Though heavy with worry
her clothing the dress of a girl

She keeps a patient vigil
from the moment the sea turns
in the morning, until the
reddened sunset, she stands
looking into the distance, every
dawn she watches the late star
turn off and every night the sun
sinking down, in this place
where the sail must reappear
she lives there, pale and fading

Affianced, immutable and faithful
always waiting, sure of shared hope,
loyal and losing nothing of it, in
the time since he left, nothing
has changed, wrapped in her shawl
sometimes sulking, sometimes pure
light trembling around her an aura
of ivory love and hovering always

She does not reveal her secrets,
everywhere in his absence
rests his eternal love and for her
alone in longing, surrounded by
a thousand faded objects, the old
guitars, are his.

© Ionwhite