L’anniversaire de sa mort

This dreaded date is coming, close at hand
This day, sorrier than the previous
Three hundred sixty-four? Prometheus
Was no worse off. Twitching my wedding band
Angry, for this turn in life was not planned.
Outrage, for me he was a Theseus!
His death, an abuse, awful, most hideous,
Has thrown me stranded, roaming in a wasteland!
Through agitating sadness and enmity,
Daily I’ll persist to find some small joys.
I rewrote my fragile cherished vow,
“Until death do us part,” to “Eternity.”
A vision of reconnecting returns a poise
To my soul, as I kneel to pray, my head to bow.