People Over Politics, World Over Wealth
~~~~~
~~~~~
How languorously her tears fall
waiting for the service to begin.
Who can know the depth of her
sorrow, how her time came now?
Listen for the sound of sadness
pattering the floor below, like
distant rain upon cobblestones.
Wait! The hearse has arrived.
The pallbearers lift the casket
solemnly upon their shoulders.
They enter the cathedral as the
mourners rise. She waits alone.
Who might bring comfort, brief
respite from her lacerating loss?
Though many may try, none will
succeed, for the wounds of grief
are cleft too deeply to be cured
by the gentlest touch, brief hug,
or soft word. No matter how well
it’s spoken or ultimately intended.
Only time’s caress will heal her.
~~~~~


