This end of things begins to taste like fruit,
A bittersweetness letting go of more:
A heart too full, a past grown resolute.

I emptied out what I had held in store,
And made a place for ache to enter slow;
A stillness I had never known before.

My soul, your magic’s drawn
By absence of the rainfall making dry
The prayers I spoke before the break of dawn.

They gather now beneath the watchful sky.
In this new house, I make a quiet vow:
To empty out my too full heart and not ask why.

Go to the edge where summer stands,
Where fire shaped this land of mine,
The burned earth cradled in our open hands.

I go, but still, I draw the line
Between the world I loved and this one here;
The past a place I’m tempted to enshrine.

The rooms now gone, the sights no longer clear,
Still rise in me when comes the heavy rain,
Still echo in the trails that disappear.

They haunt the quiet dusk, not to explain,
But simply to remind me what I knew:
That love was real no less because of pain.

I see my home, the image breaking through,
All emptied out, too full to be contained,
Those places swept by ending winds that blew.

My heart is tentatively pained
By things I no more hold or own.
For what’s in me now is deeper, unordained:

A freedom not from grief, but one I’ve grown,
A vow made not to dwelling, but to present soul.
A path of life laid for me yet unknown.