PARTING


By Sam Yau



Our broken togetherness,

built over nineteen years,

still has a will to survive.


It doesn’t accept its demise with grace.

It wriggles and flips in the air,

a fish out of water

gasping its dying breath.


Nothing to talk about

other than our child.


We were in the same house,

but seldom in the same room.

We’d try to connect—one of us

always threw up our hands.


I don’t want us

to repaint the past in grey,

to smear the sunny side

of our partnership.


I want us to honor the light

and shadow in each of us,

tread our blame lightly,

lest we banish years

behind the door of oblivion.


The dawn is just below the horizon.

I wait in silence in the thinning darkness.

When the first ray of light peers through the fog,

a new day will begin for both of us.


We don’t have to figure everything out,

relationships are complex;

a combination of karma and freewill

and mystery, too.





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