It still lurks
safely in the past,
but now dredged up because
it is so good for modesty.
No, I will not succumb!
The thing you shun is a gift,
a ringing sword thrust to be cherished,
a uniter of souls.
It is for us
to confirm our separation
as inviolate. Hold close
this tragedy, this loss,
and cherish them.
Now souls may come together.
No, no, the time is now;
this truth is yours.
Yours, the anguish--
yours the gift;
it is in such alone
that love is understood.
And naked, what then?
Not lesser, pure...shining there.
Did you not know it all along?
Even to the last moment,
you need not wash your hands.
~