To
say, “Time heals all wounds” Is trite
When the heart is in its anguish,But there is no
Cure for the bereavement
But time.
The Death lies quiet,
But the living greave
The dissolution
Of what could have been.
Why, oh why
They ask again and again.
A question with no answer,
The loss remains.
And, unexplained,
Life will go on.
Hard though it may be
For the bereaved.
Until time
Has came and gone.
Time to, if not heal,
At least adjust
To a life without,
And time to find a new meaning.
Not to forget,
For that is not in the cards,
But to remember the joy
Without it being
Drowned by the sadness
Of the passing.
A quietus will be found,
Not today, not tomorrow,
But a time will come
And bring with it
The strength needed
To pick up the pieces and move on.
© Rexx
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