I cannot say where you are. Unreachable by prayer, even if poems are prayers. Unseeable in the air, even if souls are stars. - Carol Ann Duffy

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.
It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

What do I have
to help me, without spell or prayer,
endure this hour, endless, heartless, anonymous,
the death of love?

There'll be what you might call a moment of inspiration – a way of seeing or feeling or remembering, an instance or a person that's made a large impression. Like the sand and the oyster, it's a creative irritant. In each poem, I'm trying to reveal a truth, so it can't have a fictional beginning