It doesn’t matter how many years
Wave after wave flows the tears
Each new loss brings pain of its own
It cuts so deep, right down to the bone
Grief is a scab that is easily torn
There is no end to the ways we shall mourn
A song, a scent, a picture, or sight
Reopens the wounds and we feel its bite
A pain unique, unlike anything else
Worse than the whip of a hundred belts
A love once alive now has gone
Darkness for us but for them it is dawn
A new death ignites
Sorrows from the past
There are times we think
We will never last
Grief is a scab we will
Always feel.
The comfort from others
Is how we will heal.
Write poetry? Submit your poem to Poetry Catalog