Ein Sof

Has every life apart from you
been this way?
Every breath aching with grief,
rudderless,
fallow?
How am I to bear it?
Your absence has shorn any
wing that might grow,
the bones grow dense
and lose their hollow flight.
I cannot escape my own judgement
and must find more careful hands
to cradle such a fragile heart.
I fear I slay it
with every turn.