Fare thee well my nightingale I lived but to be near you Though you are singing somewhere still I can no longer hear you - Leonard Cohen

From bitter searching of the heart,
quickened with passion and with pain
we rise
to play a greater part
this is the faith from which we start.

To a Young Nun

This undemanding love
that our staggered births
have purchased for us — You in your generation,
I in mine.
I am not the one
you are looking for.
You are not the one
I've stopped looking for.
How sweetly time
disposes of us
as we go arm in arm
over the Bridge of Details:
Your turn to chop.
My turn to cook.
Your turn to die for love.
My turn to resurrect.

And she shows you where to look Among the garbage and the flowers. There are heroes in the seaweed, There are children in the morning, They are leaning out for love, And they will lean that way forever, While Suzanne holds the mirror.