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Not all things

December 26, 2016

Are we only allowed to mourn what has breathed?

What about those things which grow inside
But never see the breeze
To inflate the love
That’s held within?

Sometimes life
Doesn’t have a chance
To cry and stretch
Sometimes, before the wail
Of celebration, comes a mourning
But we do not speak
We stand, silent, observing
Pretending the swelling
Of promise had not been
And like a sweet, too large to swallow
We gulp, we drink
And at last the memory is dislodged
And we slowly edge away
Eyes diverted, hearts shrouded without words to express, what was meant but has not been.

How can we find the forms
To show they were.
To mark a passing.
To hold the sadness
Like a candle, inconsistent light
But constant flicker?
A passing sight, a feeling
Is still real; how can we celebrate
A resonance fading but resonating still?


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