Death crushes through the roof
snatching the breath from the beloved lungs of the loved ones
I clutch to the bossom of my chest.
“Nothing could be more fair,”
I conclude, “Nothing more Perfect or Just!”
I snort uncontrollably from my contorted writhing on the floor
bleeding out of trust
My Grief, fathered by debilitating pain
yet daily observations deem me quantifiably sane.
I am just amid it or amidst it,
there will be an end
And there will be time for others
to discern how to engage, how to begin.
Inspired by Heath Mcnease