December 1, 2022Poem
The dying of every child
lossgriefnaturepoliticsmortality
The dying of every child
Deepens the darkness
Engulfing me
Grief is never understood
It is endured
Mothers cry in pain
Fathers die in vain
It happens again and again
With every new day.
Even as the sun shines
The flowers grow
In profusion
There is no respite
To the continuity of order
Even the chaos of a wilderness
Has at its core
Mathematical perfection.
The art of life
Is to mirror reality
To exist in parallel
To mimic an appearance
Of normality.
The pain of loss
Weighs too heavily
On the living,
Crushing spontaneity.
The smile on the face of grief
Bears the pain
Of a thousand cuts,
The beauty of death
Lies in its power
To bleed us dry
Before its full impact is realised
And the wound is closed.