You did not say it then, but I saw those unspoken
words in your hands, your eyes, your half-smile
when I bade you goodbye the night we would rather
forget but will always remember as our surest bind.
You had the children with you; flying off to give me
space, and for the children, and for the best, and…
There is no best, I said, we will know when we need
each other again. Until then, find yourself. I will.
Did you want to embrace me then but were afraid
I would not give it back? Did you hope I would say:
Stay, do not go. Let us try again. Let me try again.
I did, and that airport parting remains a nightmare.
When I came back to you, did you want to say:
I forgive you; please forget that past; forgive me,
if you can. But we stood apart between the children
running to hug me. I saw that look, but did not know.
I have been trying to come home since then. Did you?
— Albert B. Casuga