Duende Poem by terri kay

Duende
for my heart
after it was so eagerly pursued.

Duende
for my pride
thinking we were more
knowing we were
and then seeing the iron curtain crash
down in front of me
being reduced to
practically nothing.

Duende
for my mind
having to guess what's happening
since the already
lackluster communication
has slowly slipped
and slipped
and slipped

Duende for my soul
which was sparked and lit
with delicate hands
until my fire burned so brightly
that the cool breeze,
meant to chill the embers,
was barely noticeable.

Duende
was the word.
not for imp or goblin, or
any other regular meaning-
but the sobbing of
my gypsy heart.
who knew love
briefly
that simply is no longer returned.