Sometimes I write about actual events and people I know; sometimes I write fiction. The poems in this series are about actual family events.
Part II
Where does one go
When everything one loved is lost?
Where does one find strength
When chaos and pain and death sets in?
How young is too young
To know that everything and
Everyone we love
Can be ripped away
Forever?
For her –
Too young
But somehow
Through sorrow that poured down
Day and night like
A long monsoon
She kept going
Finally leaving the house
Of their memories
The pictures
The shoes
The clothes
That once belonged to men
Never again to walk this earth
And she walks the busy floors of work
And the silent halls of a soon-to-be-empty house
Knowing only this truth, this moment
But full, somehow
Of belief
That there is light
Somewhere to be found
And that she is still headed towards it
And that no ending to any life
Negates that life’s
Significance