Heavens held and sun still knew eternal place,
while world had fallen into darkness, disarray,
collapsing through the flimsy skin of old beliefs,
to lie in shattered, brutal remnants of itself;
reality reduced to merely moments, broken pieces
littering the remains of what I once called day.
In an instant, with words that beat hell’s drum,
what was, fell to life’s cold and stony floor,
as if it had never been; substance surely sucked,
from the body of relationship in mortal wound;
love’s blood flowed scarlet toward coagulate,
drying, dark and permanent by future’s door.
Time swept up the dregs and dross of memory,
scrubbed at stained, persistent edge of grief,
removing not just remnants of forgotten past,
but also hope that loss could be reworked;
life trod upon dead patterns, faintly, surely set
to cast death’s silhouette in stark relief.