“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being,
the more joy you can contain.”
~ Khalil Gibran
For the rest of her life
*
The rich soil
A gaping wound
In anticipation
This greedy predator
Hungers for its prey
*
The tiny pine offering
A simple shroud
A sack of earth her pillow
Static voices – rat-a-tat-tat – rat-a-tat-tat
Nothing of comfort here
*
A spring planting
Where only grief
Takes root
Pain is now
My shadow
*
A branch
Frail
Unable to survive
Severed
The tree hollowed
*
What mother leaves
A daughter alone
In the unforgiving earth
Returns to Brooklyn
And fondles tiny white shoes
*
Come winter
I daven
The wound engulfs me
And the child
Who lie in the snow
Bisous,
Léa
poetry, photos and musings oh my! 
Sad but lovely~
You are right Cindy. But as you know, writing about it can be cathartic and every time I put something like that on a post, I hear from someone it speaks to. That feels good.