In a life
he is the absence of life,
death is meaningless
we give enough,
why take more
So desolate without him,
I mourn each hallowed bier
My woes fill my eroded
heart and burning
flesh internally
my shattered spirit
clings to hope
it could be a dream
the cradle has become
an empty cask of ashes,
you Son I thought
would live forever
closing my eyes
I whisper your name
with softened voice
holding it near
my weeping heart.
Written January 2010.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem