The wall of in-between

If you are the one who died, 
why is it that I feel myself to be a ghost? 
The sun's rays shine straight through me as I sit 
like a spectre on the wall of in-between. 
You opened a door to the other side 
and now it won't quite shut. 
I fear that if I close it, 
I might lose you forever.


Sure, I know how precious life is, 
I have seen first-hand how tenuous our grip 
but how can I live wholeheartedly when half 
of my heart is on the other side of the wall 
and the only access to it is through that door, 
the door I cannot go through, 
the door I cannot shut?

I want to seize the day - 

it might be my last after all. 
But the day I want to seize is a day with you in it
and the days we seized together
are numbered now and finite.
There will be no more. 

So I sit on the wall with the door ajar
and hope for a time when
I might keep your presence 
with me in the whole of my heart
and be wholeheartedly present, 
my outline solid as the sun sets again
on a day well-lived. 

Sunset on Burbage - 29th September 2015