There is a part of the heart lying empty
Sorrowed, it waits to be refilled
The desolation of a barren space
Seeps into every line of every face
Memories revealed as tears spilled
Gone, but not truly gone
In being helpless, have we sinned?
No, we loved in letting go
Like a leaf on river’s flow
Like rose petals in the wind
What passed away is not away
But traveled to another place
Where sorrow is a distant blur
Where grass is truly the greener
And every thought is grace
Someday we may find what has left
Not leaves and petals swept helplessly away
But a strong tree, tall and full
A rose so vibrant as to make all else dull
What was lifeless of yesterday
Is alive today
This is dedicated to a horse named Shea. She died of colic to the sorrow of many who loved her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem