Poem: a Grief Perspective

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

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