THERE IS NO BLAME

When I look at these extensions of ourselves,
I wonder, dear, what's happened to us?
Is love so far removed
that we can't be friends?
Surely, hate should not exist between us,
even now, after the dark passages of time
and the turmoil and conflict
of two separate minds
that could not meet.

Bitter tears may flow
inside your soul,
resentment burning jagged edges
on the heart of you.
You may blame me for all that's lost
and cast your slings and arrows
with a fervent throw,
but time, I hope, will be the healer
of your wounds,
and you will see, perhaps,
there is no blame.

For we were one, for a time,
and from the union of that love
came two I care about with a passion
more than breathing.
I could not despise the man
who helped create the meaning
of my life. No, love, we may not share
the contents of the world, nor agree
on anything worthwhile,
but the blood within you,
mixed with mine,
surely flows inside the veins
of two more important than we.

I look at our sons, and I'm sad.
But thankful.
Emotions overwhelming
engulf my soul, my total being,
reminding me
that a special love for you
still dwells inside my heart,
of which there is no death.

No, love, all is not lost.

Copyright 1975 Ruth Gillis

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