no time to talk about this right now, but wanted to post it.....
Regret: A Ghazal for Agha Shahid Ali
The poet approached his death without regret.
His loves, his words, all pure and true. No regret.
Sunshine in April warms the panes of windows
composed of broken sand. Does the ocean regret?
The room is brilliant and empty, bed made,
window open, curtains billowing in gusts of regret.
Lovers frolic in the new grass, hands hot and waiting.
Their eyes meet. Everything is possible but regret.
I met the poet the year before he died. We talked
of everything but death. I still carry that regret.