…were we once wandered

Once, we spoke in plurals
our house, our dreams, our tomorrows
‘we’ is such a small word to contain an entire universe
we became a couple so gradually
that I cannot remember when it happened
perhaps it began with your footsteps
becoming familiar on the floorboards
my name became softer, when spoken by you
outside, the garden changed with the seasons
the roses opened and the leaves fell
winter breathed its breath against the windows
and there was always two shadows
moving through the rooms, until there weren’t
how strange that something built by two people
can be suddenly broken, by only one
everything instantly became singular
my house, my bed, my mornings, my grief
and that tiny word, ‘our’, became unbearable
I still walked beside the river
where we once wandered beneath the willows
and even nature seemed determined to remind me of you
two ducks drifting across the water
two butterflies circling the lavender
two clouds touching briefly above the hills
I wanted to tell them all to be careful, for there is danger
in becoming accustomed to another heartbeat
there is danger in believing, that togetherness is permanent
but the river continued flowing, indifferent to my warnings
perhaps it knew what I had forgotten
that separation, is also part of nature
branches break, rivers divide, birds migrate
petals loosen themselves from flowers that they once belonged to
even the moon must sometimes disappear
so, I began learning the difficult language of singularity, ‘I, Me, Mine’
at first the words felt like loneliness
then slowly, they began to feel like my morning
my window, my garden, my future
and one spring day under a blooming tree
I realised, that becoming one again was not the same
as becoming less, I was still complete, one heart, one life
a constellation of memories and scars and impossible hopes
you were a part of my landscape and perhaps you always would be
but you were never the entire sky above me
one day the blossoms trembled, in the morning breeze
and one pale petal, fell into my open hand
I held it gently for a moment, and then I let it go
and that is when I knew that I was healed
©Ann Bagnall