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Friday, January 8, 2016

A poem for my Grandma.

The world knows it is losing you.
It blankets the sky with gray like dawn;
Gray like grief underwater.
Smooth, empty, the clouds do not comment.
They simply give us
A blank slate for us to paint the pain of your passing.
Falling fragments of canvas,
Cold shards of static, offering anaesthetic
And dull chill.
I ask the sky,
How many times can we say goodbye?
Eternity answers, all, and none.

1 comment:

Becky Munyon said...

It's a beautiful poem with great imagery. So sad. I'm sorry for your loss.