It’s always hard trying to come to terms with it, once a person is born Death is decided we know the truth of the mortal nevertheless we cry, grief, tears it’s the love we give but the other can’t receive in spite knowing it all each Death we see is difficult even if its 100th we’ve encountered.
We ask questions beginning or with sentences ending with why as we struggle to breathe. We often weep in despair, silently: sometimes offering ourselves as the replacement because a life without them is unimaginable. A heart raging in the fire of questions with tears that hurt with the flow; later the same heart tries to console. Continue reading