Bereavement left me lonely and distraught
The maps I used were no guide for this time
So love seems dead, the left feel mute, betrayed
The place where love once lived is now a void.
Yet even here a poet can find new lines
Bereavement left me low, I felt destroyed
The thought of making love fills with distaste
To our own death, we seem to be resigned
For love seems dead and we are mute, betrayed
Though we eat, our food has no real taste
Our meals unbalanced lose thir past design
Bereavement leaves us lonely and destroyed
Yet on what narrative are such thoughts based?
The axioms can change, create new times.
Is love dread and how were we betrayed?
There can a meaning other than divine
Love’s down low between these very lines
Bereavement may not totally destroy
Love may touch my heart , no demons’ toy