Immeasurable, is the distance of
Loss that never quits, never ends.
A senseless passing, born of tender
Tragedy, still difficult to comprehend
Days, months, years after final breath.
Though subtle in façade and function,
Along with silent, lasting fury of guilt,
Descent takes form in daily depression
As body and spirit atone in meager
Acceptance played out until death.
Eyes still seek to peer beyond the rain
In vistas vague, illusive and undefined
For answers owed that never come,
Despite time’s influence to suppress,
Placate or mitigate the lasting pain
Held within—until the final breath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem