Their faces show their
inner loss,
the presence of the beloved gone forever,
only cold inner darkness felt
where once a warm loving caring ruled.
Flesh of her flesh
is a beloved child;
time does not diminish that bond,
so death is also a ripping,
body and soul,
a sharing in the death;
a oneness torn asunder.
A father’s pain
is no less felt,
emotions felt extremely unruly,
leading to places perhaps unknown before
allowing the inner bleeding to be felt,
of the beloved once felt now absent.
Love and loss
seem to be twins,
for without a bonding
there is no asunder.
