The Only Always Present Emotion
Some breezes in his life were shrouds and turned
To long-term winds. His wedding was the one
Most crippling, both to him and her. It spurned
Their cores. The long-term garment had been spun
By culture over centuries. The warp and weft
Produced the weight of shroud with tomb and life
For weaving. One result was like the theft
Of happiness in bed for man and wife.
His friendships, too, were shroud-like since they brought
Him visitations from the realm of death.
They all too often were like torn shirts, fraught
With distances and men were short of breath.
One wind was everywhere, a wind above
The others. It was unrequited love.
~ Phillip Whidden