AN ARM THAT NEVER DID NOT LIE ON HIM Poem by Willem Jan Otten

She's journeying but out of the first morning
of our lifelong life into a single life
came welling up out of my doze her arm,
floating feather-dove-light fondly down on me.
I definitely slept and something spoke right through me
saying: your life is mine. But now she was
not even in the bed, though it spoke with one voice:
your life is mine. There is no lighter yoke
than from the one who, arm on me, thus spoke.