The Widows Cry Poem by Karen van Wyk

Crying out in anguish.
Flesh, and blood, and voice!
A cleansed soul left to dry!
Such searing pain, such poise.
Gnashing waves rise,
to salty eyes.
No mercy!
No release shall fall!
How shall she live in this wicked life?
What will become of these hollowed walls?
She cannot breathe!
She cannot fight!
All hope has faded, gone from her sight.
You! All the many you!
Know not this pain!
Her lifes mate!
How shall she bare the empty weight?
This lifeless spirit!
She bleeds dry in daily strides.
Oh, a survivor is she, to be sure.
She will rise as natural as the tides.
Tho this unseasoned shell will prevail.
It is not a happy day!
Nor a voice heard!
Love! Love!
Oh Love!
This union, this best!
All seeking, even a grain in times test.
Upon her, a world balances some hope.
Who now, shall give testament to this life?
When all is woe unto this widowed wife.