Unspoken Sadness

This poem is for my english etcher. Who just lost her baby. This poem is only a fraction of what I feel for her right now.

1. .

in this world

it isn't rare to find 

hurt,    pain,     tears


Yet each time

when the harshness runs in 

the punches throw you off guard

the bruises of the tragedy linger 

and I find

myself asking




eventually the tears 

will run dry

but forever will they be implanted on our faces

a silent yet daily reminder

of a life taken 

to soon. 


So we search

not really knowing what to find

only knowing

that when we do seek it out

the healing 

will be halfway started


So let this be a token,

a sign

something to let you know

I care, I am praying

I will be there.

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