Am I an Us or a Them?

I was certain

we had irreconcilable differences,

    that you felt contempt for me

 or even hatred.

 

I reinforced boundaries,

    protected my tender heart,

        and shut the rusted gate

    which led to that realm.

 

I secured the gate,

    hid the key,

        and declared the heart within

    battened and safe.

 

And I stayed away

    as dust gathered in those shadowy chambers.

 

Today, I feel your hand

    lightly brush mine as we

        mourn,

    side by side.

 

Probably unintended, I think, and that's fine.

 

Then again, 

    a spare touch,

        your soft fingers

    slipping into mine.

 

We wear the same grief in our eyes,

    and our hands 

        remember love,

    more than words cracked with age.

 

Hands, softly touching,

    eyes forward,

        all sounds cease

    in the swell of warmth across this iron gate.

 

Like a sun-bright morning,

    I feel the key

        as you press it into my palm.

 

Tenderly, you say

    Sweetheart, 

        I think it's time to go in.