It was the lowering, <br />the creaking descent <br />into that gaping hollow <br />of icey earth <br />that pooled <br />my tears <br />until they slid <br />down countours <br />the way rain runs <br />upon earth’s mantle <br />to flow toward <br />some distant Spring. <br /> <br />It was the lowering <br />into the icey earth, <br />dusted white with snow, <br />that made me see our heavy <br />blackness in relief, <br />that made me hold our stillness <br />in memory’s abeyance, <br />that told me you <br />had not now our warmth, <br />had not now our sentience, <br />had not now our longing for comprehension. <br /> <br />It was the lowering <br />into icey earth <br />holding you coldly, <br />that held me on the edge <br />of life's dream, <br />looking downward <br />toward your sleep <br />never ending.<br /><br />Dennis Lambert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-lowering/
