Six Years Later

And so we meet again, oh you 15th of March,


Day of grief and ineffable sorrow.

You steal the days of my Spring

And the sweet of plum blossoms he once held so dear.

Lacking where my heart would be,

You further my injury year by year

No possibility for reclamation of delight,

No prospect of salvaged happiness,

On this, oh you of days.

And so we meet again, oh you 15th of March!

Oh day of impossible affliction!

Already have you come for my light,

Larcenous and rapacious in the blackberry winter!

Are you not shamed by your actions?

Are you not disgraced by the impetus of them?

I am for you, oh day,

As you have taken those precious to me,

On this, oh you of days.

And so we meet again, oh you 15th of March,

Oh you day, anguish of my soul.

Yet, I aver there will be a time when I reclaim you for myself.

No longer pusillanimous nor enigmatic,

But confident and sure in the power of my joy.

The flowers of plums will be mine to hold dear

Each bud bursting forth with greater vigor,

Greater vehemence than ever before,

On this, oh you of days.

And so we meet again, oh you 15th of March,

Day of soft violence against my soul.

What you have stolen, you may not keep

Each blossom I will countermand.

Restored my heart shall be,

My mourning melted from its chambers.

Joy trace evident amongst those restored,

Small light still on the horizon,

On this, oh you of days.