On the night of the full moon last
I did the ritual —
I called the Powers to
witness
my long-delayed, formal goodbye
to the dear man who has gone into
my past.
Not that I could see the full moon.
It was utterly black, that sky —
not even pin-prick stars.
Heavy, relentless, the rain fell
and fell.
Light would not pierce that veil, not soon.
So I came indoors,
and from far and high
I called them all —
the elements, the God, the Goddess
—
into my bedroom, which used to be ours.
And there I said goodbye to my
beloved;
a final, deliberate farewell
within a circle of sacred space,
watched by the moon’s invisible eye
…
admitting at last that he is dead.
This form, invented by David James, is called Karousel
