(My grandmother just passed away. I’m going to post a few poems dedicated to her and her passing. This one was originally written for her brother in law Happy when he died.)
The shadows cling to everything;
The world is ripe in black
Where we stand nothing is seen.
Set in whole and empty parcels
Set in loose pulls and pushes
Tying up every unit back to what it was.
See the world is darker yet,
See the causes have all been set,
I do not wish to go back yet.
The world grows even darker.
The sights are harder, sharper,
And we are standing amongst the mists.
Pure unadulterated darkness.
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