My own art

Tersa Rima

I was almost drowned  by deep,dark  grief
I have wept  at home and wept abroad.
I lost my early childhood to these deaths

I have  known grief  spread like rivers wide
I ‘ve been  wracked  by   painful spasms of  tears
I have felt the absence of  my God.

I’ve known grief for  more than sixty years
My father and his brother were the first
I have met no  being who’s been spared.

Yet we have no permission  here to weep
I long for ritual like  my writer’s pen
I ache  to dream of them  while I’m asleep.

Like a fox hides in a hole or den
I would like to hide  when day begins
Uncontained  by  his love  again

As a tree mourns for each little leaf
As God mourns his human life so brief
I have been demolished  by  wild grief
I have  seen lost ghosts, yet still believe