Buried beneath layers of mindless thought, searching
for objects of behavior, finding none and living in
a cocoon of misery.
No one can come close or aid a desperate person
grieving for their child.
There are no incriminations or belittling on how a
person handles it.
Each of us has to find our envelope of coping as we
live in expectant prayer.
Knowing prayers will never be answered until we are
reunited in heaven's gardens.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem