Rage, rage against the loss of one you love,
keen and cry and flail against life’s breast
drowning in that bitter, awful grudge;
wallow in the depths of endless grief.

But listen always for the distant sounds,
of birds in busy tweeting, draining deep,
the rain upon the roof and thirsty ground;
so does heart remind and call us back.

Pain as petals broken will then surely fall,
one by one in deliquescent, steady dance,
edges curled, surrendering to fate’s call;
all that is destroyed is then transformed.


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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