It is difficult enough to make amends with the living;
When you still bear the bruises from the cuts they have left,
And words still linger from the air of their breath
As pain resides within, like an unwelcomed guest.  

So ponder the torment of having to forgive the dying;
When the real bruises can now be found on their skin,  
Rancid air filled with indecision, faded and thin.
As pain turns into guilt, ghostly and restless.

I remember that light vividly
Watching peace flicker within the trees
When a crow flew by, whispered something to me

Now, basking in the mourning sun
Everything was still, inert, and calm
Yet I can sense the somber nights to come

Continued my walk while holding my breath
The bugs in the dirt can now hear me wept
It’s time for the sunrise but someone had set

As the last of the flowers have withered,
And the guests have washed their clothes,
The cemetery has new bodies to entomb,
I still feel your presence very close.

For every waking morning without you on our side,
Demands a tough facade for every new dawn,
With responsibilities piling our plates,
I still hear your voice guiding us on.

At times where people have seem to forget,
And your space at the table has been quietly replaced,
Things and clothes packed neatly into boxes,
I still recall the warmth of your embrace.

For the world that we know will continue to revolve,
With the sun, the moon, and its skies ever so blue,
Your memory lives on in every piece of me;
I will choose to remember every last piece of you.