Living with loss
a river flows through it
Even the stillest waters run deep
Call it a Baptism of fire whilst drenched in water
I could cry a river when I think of you, perhaps I already have.
The spaces you left for us to fill, are almost ironic with their echoes demanding life.
Although it may be one life that ends, those left behind — at times, are barely breathing.
Each lull after lull and wave after wave — are at once comforting and terrifying.
How strange to find life’s hectic continuing in the midst of death
Twenty four hours of every day, life keeps going — no matter who gets off the ride, around the sun it goes.
There is no pause, even when we’re so cruelly interrupted with tragedy.
There are those who have since asked after you — or the bills that keep on arriving — or calls about appointments you’ve missed. What a touch you were never on ‘social media’, all those friend requests being ignored — following you into the abyss.
I keep wasting time, looking out from the shore — wondering, what will wash up next.
I hope you won’t mind — when I laugh, when I cry.
