I could tell in few words
how living takes hold, and death curses existence.
I could tell in melody of aching empty.
I can convey feelings,
as sun brings her morning breath,
as star dreams in time –
all this sensed with a word.
but, I cannot change fate,
make sense of where sense is not made
Knowing this, feeling, helpless
in understanding all is how it births and dies for purpose –
I cannot bring the why to front
The sight and senselessness of life stopped short.
even in knowing short lives matter most and touch and pull
with unscathed beauty,
I still can’t tell of how I feel when it seems the sun settled too soon.
Death makes this sacrifice so we live – why I and not you?
This world was not for such innocence.
Does this make the living unworthy of death?