1: 49 p.m.
Jutting through the windows of my soul,
as prayers that got caught in the winds
of time.
Being unanswered and dying in depths of
immediate loss.
Bereaved, forlorn, forsaken, not chosen
by the one who was alive and has now gone
from the shores of life.
If they had been given a choice, many
would've stayed here with friends and family.
1: 50 p.m. 3/27/14 RoseAnn V. Shawiak
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful thought of the bereaved souls whose wishes were unfulfilled..... very nice imagery