His absence haunts

How can it be he is no longer here?
How can it be I do not hear that voice
His presence haunts me from his battered chair

Though I have money and no needs to bare
I feel the grief, the affect of his choice.
How can it be that he has vanished here?

What is a world when loss turns to despair.
When every sheet by weeping is made moist?
His presence haunts from his beloved chair

Now we learn the symbol of the hare
Hunted, captured, killed,oh lachrymose
How can it be when love should counter fear?

Into the real, we stand and longtime stare

We’re begging, blaming, badgered, shamed and gassed

Some presence feints with ours in death’s own lairs

Now the world of man has long surpassed
The time we could blame God for what we ‘ve missed
How can it be that He is never here?
His absence haunts: symbolic, suffered, real.

I welcome comments and criticism

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