Nearly five weeks into the period of my viduity,

And all the things I love to do

Now fill me with horror.

Walking in the hills without her,

seems like a sacrilege,

Visiting Art galleries alone…

seems like visual masturbation!

We shared the joy of art,

And now I don’t know how to

Feel joy.

My myopic vision into the future,

Cannot focus on anything.

Everything sits in a grey mist,

The pages of my story  seem moth-eaten

and threadbare.

I live in a silent commune with my dogs,

which were our dogs,

And I get no sense of where we shall be,

A week today, a month today…

a year.

I am living Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape,

A play I used to love,

For it’s bleak and stark vision…

But I didn’t want to live there.

Not alone.


Dale xxx




2 thoughts on “VIDUITY

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