A lone figure stands in a bare landscape of sand, stone and land, and the poem reads like a portrait of grief. The speaker watches this wanderer, who seems to regret not having followed "her" into death or away from the world. The land, which should be neutral, starts to feel like an enemy, as though the empty setting is pressing in on him.
The second stanza turns to the woman who "sleeps" below. She isn't buried the usual "six feet" down, and the ground is "just glass," so she feels strangely close and visible, yet out of reach. The last two lines are the most unsettling: no wounds, only "the lack of a past." Judging by the imagery, loss here isn't a dramatic injury but an absence, a blank where shared memories should be. The mood is quiet, numb and lonely, built from short lines and plain, heavy words that mirror the wanderer's emptiness.