Wild love sprung from hunger and
Grief. It’s an old song, familiar as 
A mother’s anguish in our absence, but 
Hope springs eternal. We hope for Spring
Even in the eternal afterlife. 

It’s a sad song. Familiar as saying no when
We want to say yes. 
Familiar as the fear of losing what 
We hold most dear. Familiar as loving one who
Cannot stay. Yet, yearningly we hope.

In a second line celebration of broken hearts, 
Broken spirits and broken promises, a funeral
Masquerading as a festival, 
A feast of pomegranates and forgetting, 
In the fires of the underworld, we hope.

For trust that shudders not in darkness,
For faith unwavering in the halls of Hades,
For a lover that leads in song and certainty, 
Untouched by qualm or regret,
Footfall by footfall, into Spring.

[Deborah Sage lives in Louisville, Kentucky. She has been published in Eternal Haunted Summer, Fairy Tale Magazine, the 2022 Dwarf Stars Anthology, Amethyst Press All Shall Be Well anthology for Julian of Norwich, Eye to the Telescope, Lothlorien Poetry Journal. and Ephemeral Elegies among others. She has an upcoming publication in Corvid Queen.]