There is strength in being loved
which never leaves, but sits
deep in the body,
waiting to be needed;
there is a happiness in loving back
which lets the strength sing
and makes ironing work shirts
much less annoying;
because we know that, at the end,
love is taken with us into the ground
where it grows trees,
or else we throw it up
in handfuls of ashes
for the wind to sow out widely
whipping into a huge blue sky
over a flat grey sea.
Source: People: Unfinished Poems