The Widow

He died.

She lived,
or rather continued
to exist,

standing at a distance
from herself
to watch her days
fall away like leaves.

In her mind, she began
to rewrite the
unhappy plots of
their marriage

creating fictional,
improved endings to
better justify
her grief.

Slowly, she withdrew from
the babble and noise
of the outside world

into the secret inner
temple of herself

where she alone was martyr –

the one betrayed by the other
who left too soon.

Her prayers were never
answered

but she remained in
that cold,
familiar place

where all was safe,
and always

numb.