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THROUGH THE CHANGING MISTS OF GRIEF
Folder:
JOURNAL #28 with the stampede of time
eight years today
even still
rippling chills appear
a sonnet of hushed wisdom
upon the viewer's skin
muffled distractions stare
silently away
floating along in the simultaneous
vacuum of vagueness
distant music plays their empty
meaningless words
filtered out
emotions far too raw
bleed easily
such strain far too personal
to be much longer endured
such aural reminder of a once life
has no claim to calming these nerves
as the family would like
a gripping of welcome
hands amid a valley of pruned sentiment
sends tears to the bottom of a sorrow
yet fully met
the weight of closure
so necessary and painfully felt
pushes until before
so very tired
becomes
more tired than Brutus himself
must have felt
seconds after he snatched from Caesar
all his tomorrows of politics and peace
in just those shattered moments
the realization gains its legs
man will always be man
numb to his own fragile mortality
until he sees his own end in the corpse of
another
funerals
such hard devastating work up on the heart
but a real important fact for the living
its doubtlessly undoubtable to me now
God knows his stuff
death
a meeting oh so necessary
most especially
when its not your own.............
(written Jan 8, 2003 9pm)
