Twas yesterday I caught a glimpse: a monarch in our coldest month,
when winds of blizzards grey the snow around.
Its wing fluttered by my door alighting on my window pane
as if to say I bring you peace for winter will soon be gone.

I hurried to see its hues, and thought of warmer months of June
when frost was banished from our souls and green of life had sprung anew.
But as I took a second glance the image faded just as fast, and left instead
was one dead leaf that caught the evening winter moonshine full.

But still this image in my mind, persists; for bleak days winter brings,
for something dead can bring us hope with what was left.
So now I look for hidden cues, reminding me of strength within,
and let the fire of Monarch wings bring strength to help me fly again.

The world speeds past eyes unseen,
as if through empty window panes,
but I have taken time to see,
through this my camera’s lens.

The changing colors of the tree,
when autumn tips its leaves with orange;
the beauty of the shallow seas,
and majesty of the world within.

In cityscapes of the world around;
of Italy’s colossal Roman ruins,
upon each painting found on walls
of museums and hallowed halls.

I’ve captured these for aged self,
and fill my empty window panes with
proof to view a life that’s full.
recalling those sweet memories.

Amidst a closet of memories you find me,
in your simple orange shell with hidden hues within.
Your well-worn watercolors, reverent seeds of future art,
precious keepsakes of your memory still remains.

The magic art you housed brought light to early days
and life to the grayness of the cultureless country;
days of purposelessness and aimlessness, without end;
countless days of sheltering against nature, you painted my life with hope.

From first we met, I knew you forever;
your soft, sad chocolate eyes dancing with mischief,
your hands, moving to the ballet of a silent flute,
and your spirit singing in harmony with mine.

I’ve loved you more than words could express;
from a lifetime away, as from a distant planet,
your spirit gently washing against my shore,
speaking to me while I live life alone.

I’ve loved you most, throughout this dream of life,
though our walkabout was a lifetime apart,
I’ve heard you calling in the wind, the trees,
and always in my heart, urging me to come home.

Your early morning chorus echoes within my distant memory;
the raucous call of the kookaburra wakes the bush with each daybreak,
the ting of the bellbird echo as the magpies play on their pipes.
The harmony of life in the bush became my lover.

I long for the smell of your gum trees on the fresh morning breeze;
a cuppa in hand, I soak in the dappled landscape,
while the sun goes walkabout through the bush,
reflecting like diamonds dancing on the morning dew.

The sun pours out it's tender hues
over this monochrome land of daybreak.
as muted cracks of chartreuse blink
at me between the buildings to greet my day.

In the first light, before the streets busy,
mist hangs over the land,
softening the stark edges of man
on this island of soft nature, lush with life.  

Surfers aloft, atop curls that wink back at the heavens,
their bodies silhouetted against the eastern glow,
Ocean waves ripple against the golden powder beneath my feet,
as I become one in spirit with this sunshine island.

Those lucid memories of early youth;
of hot summer mornings and sultry afternoons,
with hands, red with raspberries and currants,
and sweet gooseberries, round with ripeness.

Upon the forest green I lay, eyes turned to the sky,
beneath the cool of the house birch.
Concord delicacies picked fresh from our garden
stain with their violet blood, are devoured in haste.

Magic days of Koolaide, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,
and long walks through the amber September fields,
flash before me; forgotten photographs in my mind,
sweet memories brought to life by your taste.

Your thistles sprouted long ago, at our birth;
seeds from corrupt distant lands,
found root inside our soil flourishing, unchecked,
we grew blind to the depth of your scourge.

Small and unnoticed, in a corner of our land,
still, we turned and let you grow,
refusing to address your prickly stalk,
blindly thinking you would die.

But seeds of your thorns have grown throughout,
floating on the winds of hate, spreading its toxins,,
crowding out the wonder that could be ours,
spoiling its soil with your roots that run deep.

Now our land, filled with thorns, with deadly poison grow,
infested, a bountiful harvest of anger and hate.
We follow the rest in sorrow and shame,
in a land where wicked blooms grow.

Each autumn, my heart aches for  you,
and drifts back to so long ago,
with smells and sounds of fall’s awakening.
What seems like just a few short weeks,
a lifetime swiftly passed me by.

You left us on that Tuesday morn,
as rain seeped from the wet outside,
and caused our eyes overflow,
raining down on tear stained cheeks,
that drenched us in bittersweet release.

We huddled round your dying chair,
while softly holding silenced hands,
as if to hold fast to your soul,
embosomed to its earthly bonds,
hearts longing that you stay,

Our broken hearts could not endure,
but knowing that your time was nigh,
we placed a kiss upon your cheek
and with a blessing sent you off,
to be at peace from cancer’s grip.

And as you drew that one last breath,
you mouthed those words bereft of sound,
and with that final breath bestowed,
on us a gift, your dying words of
“I love you”.

I’ve buried you upon the moon,
along with all my secret desires.
I’ve hidden you away from view,
protecting my tender heart.

The secret lies we tell ourselves,
so we never have to face the truth;
the lives we lock behind our doors
and desperation of our youth.

I’ve banished you to that life of grey,
bereft of me to dwell on you,
and shades me from judgmental eyes.
releasing me to live in peace.

I pour you out on paper with my pen,
like sour milk past its due date,
discarding the pain you’ve left me,
with your brutal goodbye,
as you turned me away into the black night.

I spill out my rage for your coldness;
for hiding her inside and letting me think
that I was the only one.
I rage on for making me love you,
and for not seeing the telltale signs until too late.

I stand by my basin at last,
and with a single stroke of a match, you’re ablaze
with the white hot anger I’ve held.
Your memory crumbles along with the ashes,
as they swirl out of sight, down the toilet of my past.

Humanity, but vessels rich with radiant energy,
created for a noble purpose.
are made of stardust and birthed from beyond;
part of the kingdom of creation.

Hold tight to that nobility;
that spirit of mutual creation;
to the beauty within and our royal calling,
even in the light of today’s world.

Be proud and look to the stars,
from whence we came;
humbly remembering that we are but atoms
forged of the earth by the heavens.

Inspired by a Serbian proverb.

We raise our cries in unison at the rain
as it pelts heavily on our lives,
drowning our tomorrows
with its dreariness and gloom.

Clenching our fists to the clouds,
we lift the voice of frustration,
as we wait for this perfect storm to abate
and give us solace.

As we huddle amidst the shelters
of our convictions,
we hold our breath and wipe
the wet of anger from our eyes.

Red shards of this broken heart lay strewn about underfoot,
after a lifetime of battles and war.
Once strong, protected behind walls of iron and steel,
my resistance rusted amidst neglect and abuse.

My heart shattered, I lay fallen before my foe;
leaving me vulnerable before love’s arrows,
I’ve felt the sting of battle in love and war throughout life.
Once a singular crimson, a tender puzzle lies.

Yet, with time and love, its scarlet cracks have been sewn together,
like lead between pieces of stained glass in windows;
broken fragments replaced with colorful hues,
and prisms of light dance with reflected beauty from within.

Chocolate; that dark addiction,
with its rich sweetness;
Belgian, French, Dutch; a triple cocktail.
Little does it matter which is offered;
all, my taste buds’ Achilles heel
and shared way to my heart.

Mere words can never quite convey,
the majesty of nature’s brush;
its sunset’s vibrant flaming rays,
and pastel hues of morning’s blush.

The whitened peaks that touch the sky,
with mountain slopes that halt our breaths,
are laced with orchid grandeur high,
and lofty clouds their craigs protect.

The desert contrasts, stunning hues;
with reddish orange of sunburnt sands,
and skies that fall as azure blues,
are painted daily with those hands.

No, none can capture nature’s soul,
and recreate it’s splendid form,
for though we try we cannot know,
this Master who from dust transforms.

Summer sighs, its long last breath,
hot and heavy, against my cheek,
bidding me farewell before the cold,
as August falls away to autumn.

Days of long, hot, steamy afternoons,
digging forts in sandpits during the peak of summer,
hunting grasshoppers as they fled from my cupped hands,
I ran like the banshee I was, growing up wild in the country.

Memories of days in shorts and undershirts,
my skin stained orange like the sand I played in,
I lived on Kool-aide and peanut butter sandwiches,
snacking on sweet red raspberries and currents that grew in our garden.

Cool nights playing twilight tag with my brothers;
the air turned crisp, always ending too soon,
mom hosing us down before we were allowed inside.
Washed clean and tucked in, welcomed sleep greeted us as our heads hit the pillow.

The local creek winks in the midday sun, beaconing us
to silently slip our barefoot feet into its cool.
We wait on the grey-brown crayfish to appear;
their bluish-gray pinchers raised, ready to do battle.

Carefully, we cup our fingers behind them,
along the clear water’s surface in wait,
as each scoot backward into our human nets,
clawing for release, we earn our battle wounds.

Midday comes too soon as we break out our bag lunches,
and we devour our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
We lie on the creek bank and close our eyes
as the August sun lulls us into a late summer bliss.

Misted jade mountains tower above,
surrounding me in a semicircle of tropical beauty.
On a warm white beach of my sandy bed, I found my Tahitian tan,
as the rhythmic waves sang their song, lulling me to sleep.

At night under the khaki green canvas of a rented tent, I hid,
its sides protecting me from dangers in the night;
palm sized spiders, alien insects, and falling coconuts…
I hold out for the safety of day of my cozy soft sand.

Thus, I found myself at a time fate sneered at me;
as I pitched a tent under the coconut palms;
with other travelers I happened upon while adventuring:
ivy league graduates, a burly pipeline worker, and me.

My memories are rich with the smells, sounds, and feel of the Pacific;
vignettes of lush blanketed mountains, wrapped in bright turquoise seas,
and me, barefoot in the surf, eating fresh coconut from a newly cut husks,
enjoying golden days in the sun.

Along the well-worn winding path,
we made our way between the burnt sienna of early sumac,
their fuzzy heads brushing against our arms,
as we basked in the rich ambiance of fall.

The smell of autumn in the air, clean and warm,
shadows long and drawn out, in September’s Mannerist style,
painted dark on the ochres and greens of the landscape,
we played our way home from our long days of school.

Rich days of golden sun on my back, long and lazy;
cicadas buzzing, grasshoppers guiding us along our way.
Memories transport me to this simpler time and place;
when my heart was still young and filled with newness of life.

My life is changing, transforming,
growing, without a whisper of notice.

No longer do I recognize myself,
for what I was yesterday has flown.

But regret is not within my heart,
for it becomes me, like the colors I wear.

For change is growth, and growth is life;
to live is change, the past is but a memory.

You whisper on the morning wind,
amid the silent majesty,
and in thin places that I find,
I still can sense your energy.

A place of solitude and peace,
beyond the realm of humankind,
where in the silence yet you speak,
above the din of all mankind.

These mystic places here on earth,
the veil between our worlds stretched thin,
where we can listen to your voice,
and feel your presence on the wind.

The fourth, our nation’s birthday; a time for family, food and friends,
as we celebrate this holiday, we embrace our fellow man.
with our Weber grills ablaze, filled with ribs and bratwurst too,
a watermelon for dessert, topped off with wine or brew.

Those who join with us to celebrate, are all from different lands;
From the islands and the forests, to Sahara’s desert sands,
and together with our brothers, we give thanks and all embrace,
for all colors and all cultures make America our race.

But as we celebrate this year, in the land which we’ve been blessed,
we see our country differently, as we struggle through this mess.
With our virtual connections we reach out to those we love,
saying prayers for those who struggle that they’ll one day rise above.

Let us all remember blessings, and give thanks for what we have,
and together, with our brothers, find some peace throughout our land.
Though despite our troubles heavy, we’re alive to share this day,
with the land we all grew up in, and the mem’ries that we’ve made.

I’m frightened for our nation, with each new crises arise,
the fear within is palpable, and weighs us down inside,
our war against pandemic, civil rights, and border walls,
each day brings new anxiety, within our bloodied halls.

I’m frightened for our people, as each day brings mounting fear,
we see the unemployment, death, destruction, through our tears.
The protests and the burning, all remind us of the past,
hurt everyone who lives within, regardless of our “caste”.

I’m frightened for my loved ones, as we struggle through our days,
and close our doors to our past lives in an effort to stay safe,
inside our silent solitude, while others squander theirs,
without a mask to shield us from the virus that they share.

I’m frightened for tomorrow as we try our best to heal,
I do all that I can myself, to others I appeal.
Today’s our day of reckoning, whichever way we can,
we lift our voice imploring and with prayer we take our stand.

Our nation, desperate for a leader, is starving for
intelligent, educated, and eloquent minds;
those who lift others above themselves.
Is this too hard to find, I ask?

A leader is one who looks beyond bipartisan politics,
to solutions that work for the whole of America;
a person who lives his/her life with dignity
and treats others with the Golden Rule.

A leader needs to honor his or her position
for (s)he is not there just for themselves;
but to help and protect those under them,
like a mother bird on a nest.

Leaders aren’t perfect, but do their best
to live above reproach; as an example to their people.
Our leaders represent us around the world
how others see us, treat us, and are our future.

A leader surrounds him/herself with intelligence,
and listens to others who know more than they;
what they say is as important as how they speak
and what action they take.

The color of the skin or gender shouldn’t matter,
but what type of person they are and
how they help us during their days in office,
especially in these times we find ourselves.

A true leader is appointed to protect their people,
not tear them down, stir them up, or cause pain.
Leaders are there for us to find, and our job…
is to find and elect them.

I lay between my summer sheets,
like many other sleepless nights,
and try to will myself to sleep;
as this becomes my nightly fight.

My thoughts spin deep inside my mind,
laid heavy with the breaking news,
and struggle with this news to find,
a way to unwind and defuse.

Still some events invade my dreams
as dinosaurs and threatening quakes,
that chase me down until I scream,
and find again I am awake.

The silence that surrounds us now; a gift that few appreciate,
as oft’ we grumble and complain, and pray deliv’ry from our fate.
For now we go about our lives, we do so often quite alone,
and many work to just survive, while staying safely in their home.
.
The crowded markets and the malls, where we so often spent our days,
we’ve learned to do without the halls, that in their buildings isolate.
Now as we go throughout our days, the peacefulness we often seek,
is here to guide us through these months, and help us find our treasures deep.

For some it’s time spent with our youth and others find the time to read,
so many search within for truth and others learn the skills to lead.
For me, perception is the key, to how I use this precious time,
and what my future has for me, I’m given now by fate’s design.

Behind this mask I am but me;
no cover up, I’m message free.
No right or left to hide behind,
no secret message here to find.

Before you think I am that dim,
come crawl around within my skin,
I only wish to stay alive,
and carry on with my own life.

So, when you see a mask on me,  
please pass me by and let me be,
to safely go about my day,
and practice freedom my own way.

But think a bit before you ask,
when leaving home without your mask,
the price your freedom you might trade,
for neighbor’s lives you have betrayed.

My name, it stands for victory;
it's strengthened me through countless storms,
I take my breastplate formed with pain,
for I’ve been through a mighty war, that’s forged this  soul of mine within.

My name, it stands for victory,
against the full campaign of life,
from guns employed to wear me down,
and bearing witness to the scars, they’ve made my heart a mighty force.

My name, it stands for victory,
through years of feeling second best,
I hid within my outer shell,
though few would ever know or guess, behind this smile which was my mask.

My name it stands for victory,
against life’s beasts, of every kind,
my spirit raises now its name,
not unafraid, I take my sword, and vanquish all my mighty foes.

My name, it stands for victory,
amidst our raging troubled world,
within my armor’s might I'm strong,
for victory will always be, my given strength, armor and shield.

If wishes flew upon the wind, I’d reach above and catch me some,
and bring them back to earth with me, and keep them safe for days to come.
I’d wish for peace in troubled times, for those not knowing how to love;
for those afflicted by our plagues, without the means to rise above.

For all my brothers in our world, I’d wish we’d all learn to embrace,
and look beyond our differences, to see the wealth beyond our face.
For black or white, brown, red, or gold, we’re all the same within our skins;
all look for love and brotherhood, and truth beyond our earthly sins.

If wishes flew upon the wind, I’d catch a few as they passed by,
and make my wishes into acts, to help all those who as they cry;
I’d find my voice and sing with all; a choir that lifts beyond the noise,
and with this song, send up a prayer, for those who hear; peace in our time.

Hope floats on gentle morning wings,
through windows just beyond the storms,
and lifts its voice in revelry,
within the willow’s sheltering arms.

He joins the choir of morning song,
with harmonies that calm our soul,
reminding all to look beyond,
embracing natures healing roll.

We seek a refuge from our world;
our broken lives are filled with pain,
within the death and violence,
beyond the trouble, and the rain.

So listen for the whippoorwill,
and robin in their melodies,
reminding us that nature’s gifts,
are often blessings that are free.

As we recall our legacy,
our voices rise in angry chants,
and once again we face the truth,
with handmade signs of our unrest.

America, in our cold grey day,
remembers its original sin,
of stolen sons, and lives enslaved,
to build our nation new as one.

Home of the free, we never were,
just more than other countries fare,
and we must see with eyes unblurred,
to history’s truth, we must endure.

The truth is we’re a selfish bunch,
with monarchy still reigning us,
and ‘til we treat all man as one,
“let freedom ring” is but a dream.

Upon this worldwide stage, we play,
and open now our eyes and see,
and with our grieving hearts laid bare,
in wretched agony, we weep.

This blindness, long within our soul,
our nation’s sin; historic past.
We brought with us and kept alive,
and made the whites our ruling class.

To this we’ve shut our eyes and ears,
pretending that we cannot see,
and if we’ve seen, afraid to voice,
in freedom’s land for centuries.

With wretched consternation now,
our voice and hearts cry out at last,
to those who hear to make this right,
within this hour and face our past.

So let us bandage up our wounds
and heal all those within our land,
and make this verse our country’s cry,
One flesh and blood; our final stand.

Our leaders in their crimson clothes,
made of the finest fabric found,
and those found backing their regime,
have set on them a royal crown.

Some blind to what is underneath;
hearts filled with darkness at their core,
stoked with divisiveness and greed,
they serve this narcissistic corp.

A leader’s job is this: to lead;
a Shepard, there to guard his flock,
in trials, they arm the battle lines,
protecting like the mighty hawk.

So, tear off the glitter and the glitz,
and tinsel of this TV game,
the constant barricade of shame,
tarnishing our nation and its name.

You are not here to entertain,
but lead us with the wisest minds,
but fools within their cloaks made new,
are still but fools; the worst of kinds.

In this our year of reckoning,
with demons we dare not discuss,
we cannot hide in cloaks of blame,
and hope this too shall pass from us.

Take up your right to choose again,
and send those tumbling to their knees,
for as they treated those they led,
so too their fate shall come to be.

Oft leaders with their silver tongues,
of lies and graceless souls have forged,
a nation filled with bleeding souls,
we lift our voice in one accord.

Imprisoned by their self-made love,
they’ve led us to this darkest hour,
while those who watch from other lands,
know us for who we truly are.

So oft we’re blinded to ourselves,
and never see beyond the lies;
a nation split between the blind,
and those who’ve seen, in horror cry.

Enough, I cry within my heart,
with like-souls indignation rage,
our bleeding nation must replace,
the fluted pipers on our stage.

Man’s cancer, here since time began; a selfish state of greed,
so we’ve appointed those we thought, would give us all we need.
But like a cancer, sickness spread and made us wanting more,
which eats upon our conscious now within this given hour.

Like ****** from his velvet throne, takes up his scepter gold,
and blinded to the cult of wealth: which few could have foretold;
the anguished hearts of those who’ll pay the price of life for “me”
will find that such self-centered life, is life that can’t be free.

All earth embraces nature’s hues;
our deserts flash in ochre brown,
deep oceans filled with turquoise blues,
and forests hushed in greenest sound.

Our artist, mother nature paints,
the world, in colors we adore,
yet still we struggle with restraints,
that keep us from embracing more.

Our fellow man, a shade apart,
from deepest coal to parchment white,
we see, are part of nature’s art,
when each is seen in different light.

Embracing earth’s diversity,
our gift; the lives of human art,
but hope for future unity,
must grow in each and every heart.

Amidst the heirs and privileged sect,
who in this land have laid their claim,
and while we’ve dozed our lives infect,
with arrogance, has brought us shame.

We claim of freedom in our land,
yet turn away those bitter cries,
of those who need compassioned hands,
while leaders hide in cloaks of lies.

Our anthem sings of bold, brave men,
yet bullies all around us hide,
among the political select
and those with killing guns divide.

We’ve sold our souls to those in power;
to those who’d rather gain than lead,
we're ransomed in our darkest hour,
to greedy black agendas feed.

Our ransomed states cannot sustain,
the beating of our separate hearts.
Unless our world can join as one,
we’ll all be forced to fight apart.

Our streets explode in wrenching pain,
exposed upon a worldwide stage.
Our voices cry, it seems in vain,
and words are filled with growing rage.

Some come in fury, some in peace,
all begging that they’d find a voice,
to lead us through this blackened eve,
and give us yet another choice.

Our lives unravel day by day,
to yet another man-made plague,
and with each morning’s cold embrace,
we brace against the fear and hate.

Divided nation, yet we stand,
along our aged battle lines, 
but those yet wise within our land,
still pray for hope and peaceful times.

The heavens cry for us below,
who struggle through the times we know,
for us to waken from this night to day.

While sadness wraps and clothes us all,
the silent death whose lives befall,
uncushioned in our quarantine we wait.

As sorrow leaks from out our eyes,
we’ve no one left to heed our cries,
though many of the world have tried and failed.

And while this nightmare plays its game,
we watch in horror and in shame,
as mirrors to our souls this virus holds.

Within the world we’ve made our bed,
amidst the plagues I lay my head,
together as we struggle to survive.

My heart, though heavy for those lost,
I struggle with the debt and cost,
within our nation’s fragile future life.

I cannot fathom, nor believe,
our current state we’ve paid much heed
and listened to the future of our earth.

Though heavy on my heart it weights
Life’s giving us some brighter ways,
to count each day a precious future life.

Your voices whisper on the wind,
a haunting sigh; your spirit’s breath.
Entrapped the day your light was dimmed;
within the spot your bodies bled.

Amidst the ruins of yesterday,
your apparitions call to mind,
and heavily they weigh upon,
the childhood heart I left behind.

When summer makes its curtain call,
and warm winds die, just after fall,
before the winter ice storms play,
and take their place upon the stage.

Your curtain lifts for just one week,
as autumn colors reach their peak
and dazzle us with one last play,
before the audience turns away.

With one last act before the night,
of bitter cold and frozen white.
That final night, you give your all,
and leave with final curtain’s fall.

At last, when autumn comes again,
it brings along its native friend,
and Summer dances on the stage
of vibrant colors, on display.

Your essence scribbled on paper,
it's pain purged from my heart.
From a single corner, a flame
ignites, incinerating your memory.

Slowly, the flame builds,
engulfing all pain;
the part of you that remains,
as you drop from my hand.

Silently, the flame flickers out,
and you turn to ashes, crumpled,
leaving only the black you are,
smoldering within the recesses of yesterday.

Washed clean by flame and water,
encircling a hole of death,
like the vultures you were,
now washed from sight and heart.

I strolled this street of opulence,
where snow, it seems, tastes twice as sweet,
and magic smells assail our sense,
and music dances on the breeze.

The air of grandness on this street,
with buildings dressed in twilight rose.
Aristocrats with wealth, replete,
are dressed to taste this evening snow.

But truthfully the difference lies,
within the heart of those who see,
the truth inside the fantasy,
when snow falls on this Paris street.

As we prepare for life ahead,
our days are spent in mortal fear,
amidst the news and rumors lie,
in gloom our futures seem unclear.

This fear, its blackness lies in wait;
of ceaseless, unrelenting stress,
this unseen monster steals our days,
and fills our nights with great unrest.

Tomorrow’s fears become today’s;
they paralyze and strip us bare,
as all must face tomorrow’s wave,
in this pandemic world we share.

But with this fear, yet comes the hope,
for all of mankind to embrace,
to look for stars amidst the night;
and feel the light of morning’s grace.

For though our path is hard to bear,
yet brighter days will come to pass,
reminding all who these times share:
of every moment’s preciousness.

We’re a bit of the heavens,
we’re made of the stars,
of the Power beyond us,
the cosmos and Mars.

The heavens we’re part of,
has given us birth,
we’re part of its royalty,
stardust, and earth.

Our body, a shell,
for what’s living inside;
our spirit, the power,
that’s waiting to fly.

This spirit, though royal,
our life is so brief,
we lose sight of our purpose,
while time acts like a thief.

Oft we take life for granted,
if we’d only see,
we’re a part of the stardust,
and of its majesty.

Your final words, “I love you”;
you mouthed them in your sleep
then drifted off to join the realm,
of where we all will sleep.

My hand I held upon your brow,
we said our last goodbyes,
and blessed you as you left the room,
as your soul took winged flight.

Though twenty and some years ago,
you left us far behind,
a silent space inside my heart,
is grieving still, I find.