They say the loss of a loved one,
A child, a spouse,
Brings hundreds of questions to our minds,
In my mind though, there is only one
One question with a thousand branches,
Why?
Why them? Why now?
I dream a house, now without them there,
What is it I'm supposedly not ready to see I wonder?
My thoughts swim through a sea of malcontent,
Unanswered questions,
Why them? Why so uneasily?
My questions are selfish like our needs as babes,
All we can ponder is ourselves,
Food, sleep, shelter, silence, peace, warmth
I find my own longing heart thinking of myself also,
Why am I left alone? Why would God do such a thing?
What could I have done? Why take them from me?
One questions, a thousand branches,
One heartache, a thousand tears,
One tragedy, a thousand empty beds.
YOU ARE READING
The Color Black
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry, ranging from my older works to newer - all dark in nature and some even darker in intention. Some could even say it is akin to The Color Black. Authors note: Many of these poems are purely or largely based off of the...
