The Sun

You used the sun as a metaphor once
To try to help her understand
Her absence.
Now you use it again to try yourself
To understand
Why no words are enough
To describe the totality that she was
And remains.
A cliche and an embarrassment but no -
Night never was bad to you.
For there’s just as much life
And this isn’t light vs dark
It’s colour vs black and white
It’s coffee without milk (though that one’s for you, reader)
Or subtitles on mute.
Which hurts. Because she had sound as well and it’s just one of many things
To now always feel like her
Or of her
Or for her.
You might list them one day to reclaim them.
But the sun is ever
And to live without is still to live and still to feel and think - think - think
Not whole.

You recall she didn’t want to be the sun.
And that’s OK. You understand. Who wouldn’t?
And it’s yours anyway.
Yet she came back. And back. And back
And said the words and wrote the words you needed
Which you keep
Where you cannot lose them
Even if you wanted to
Even though the man you envy said
I am the highway
And you understand, agree - you know - you know - you know - shout it - you know
It doesn’t work
The sun is
Without it there would be nothing
But without her there is just less.