Beneath The Surface Poem by Peter Gumbo

Her wet face,
Is a revelation of the short race,
Her most beloved had to face,
She looks around but all she sees is an empty space,

The crooked arm of fate dealt her a blow,
A blow so low,
She felt she was sinking slow,
In the ocean of adversities.

She chocks in the depths of loss,
Because death has become her boss,
She no longer has dreams,
Her sleep is looming darkness full of screams,

Was it her fault?
But she thought the curse could not sneak into the most sealed vault,
She was wrong,
It did.

The almighty,
Extended his arm of grace so mighty,
To relieve her most beloved’s pain for good,
Flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood,
That she understood.

That mysterious curse,
That wound her into an emotional coil,
Day and night she has to soil,
To face dawn anew,