death leaves a mark

death leaves a mark

hearts break apart

with one artery spilling all

the fondest memories

balanced on a knife edge

alongside the river filled

with tears.

eyes blur looking for humanity,

looking out the private window,

the living room window,

looking inward

trying to understand how it all works

as it keeps on going,

on and on,

the sun setting before another dawn

without so much harmony,

without public blessings,

and it might become bitterly cold

or it might become hot,

or it's monsoon season

and rains of the earth and sea

have depths,

flooding homes;

the smells of cooking fires 

float on the surface of choppy waves;

and the winds are strong

like fingers squeezing music

through a sieve.

my throat is dry;

the landscape barren and lush;

the tide is in

but it's already leaving

like the disappearance of a child

and the pain of loss is hard.

the softness may never return,

like a lost ring or a forgotten kiss

stolen in the blush of early spring,

each forward step looking for an answer

in a cyclone of questions spinning

in one hand, 

and out of control,

it keeps on going,

on and on:

death leaves a mark

hearts break apart

with one artery spilling all

the fondest moments

balanced on a knife edge

alongside the river filled

with tears.