watching his malign
moves upon my child shredded...
18 years have passed
without you by my side...
My tears stain my pillow
though my smile says "I'm OK...
Lilies bloom around a withered soul,
Encouraging lavish dreams to arise...
I'm glad for all the memories.
You welcomed me right in...
Running. The feeling of being so free.
Moving the feet, pounding streets instantly...
The saddest tears are the driest ones seen in the bravest smile. |
Don't tell one who writes of grief to rethink their "I" statements. When you know they had tears on their hands as they wrote, don't say the poem could be better. You might as well say their grief could be worse. |
If someone shares a poem with you that is meant to help close an open wound, they don't want your opinion. They want your hand on their shoulder, gripping it tight. |