My Santiago

Ending

There is something forlorn in an ending: Like the guests who stay on, stay over and then overstay their welcome.

Lovers – no longer in love - shedding all pretence, Fully aware of the senseless logic that urges them to hold hard when all reason to hold on has been swept away, When there is nothing to preserve, except memories, Nothing left to savour, to share, Yet reluctant to lose a grip on this tissue of permanence! This old life, seems an oasis, Now imagined better that it ever was, And going back seems tedious, stale, even unbearable!

But you, the host – the lover, The equal partner, Though guilt ridden, Now cry enough !

You tire of this stasis, And wanting to move on again,

Firmly prise fingers loose, - deliberately, one by one - Fingers clutching on with abject terror without knowing why anymore, And ease them gently out of your house, Her, Out of your life!