Now The Fire Has Burned

If poems could restore
the trust you had in me before
and leave untouched the depth of wanting,
knowing that you love ...

If only there had been no pain,
no sense of "Here it comes again",
no doubt, no loss, no desperate fears,
as each illusion disappears;
just waking up
to how you really feel ...

If only you had never asked,
and never feared it so,
nor felt it happen in your heart,
and I had never answered,
with naked truth ...

I know, a self-respecting man,
with penitence and hat in hand,
would straight away admit his sin,
would never seek the least excuse.
But, Princess, now the fire has burned,
though shadowed by the smoke above,
in that parched ground the grass returned,
the flowers spring,
I feel the freshness of your love;
when it arose that we could part
that love, which only thoughts could own,
has grown a tendril to your heart.

- by Prajna Pranab, 27/09/2008