I know you will not come to me again

But I am grateful for the holy pain

That you have left to me: this gift of flame

To me who now to you am but a name.

I thank you for this fiery gift of tears–

My lonely garden of the coming years

Will blossom into one last tree of light

Watered by tears shed at the dead of night.

Lo! I am of the dead! I am a tomb

Heavy with the deepest solitude and gloom,

But should you pass me by one sudden hour

The tomb will break for you into a flower.