Death is Unkind

   

Death is unkind

to the living.

It hollows us out,

leaves us stumbling,

pretending there is ground

under our feet. How

is it possible to be

a vacancy, yet so full

of grief?

 

                for Sheryl Noethe

    

One response to “Death is Unkind”

  1. Ah, it’s always good read your poems. I do hope you reclaimm your voice.

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