8 January 2015
Friday, January 09, 2015
Silence and a gentle pain in my chest, tears,
a reminder of a bigger pain at a young age
nothing now is comparable to back then
a sense of utter solitude, lost in a world of sterilized white colour
the eyes could not see
but my mind was roaming around lost and in despair.
a presence next me like a sweet angel: my mother
what do the people know about me:
they think they understand they nod in piety
they seem to show empathy
but I can't shake off this feeling of utter indifference
I learned over the years to not talk about it.
Only when someone has lost a dear one I attempt to reassure
for the little I saw at the door of the bejond
there is nothing to fear
that the most exquisite peace is awaiting for us.
And the living are still in suffering missing excruciatingly the departed one.
Maybe a little comfort in my words, yet again I am not sure they can grasp that really there is nothing to worry about the other side.
It is remaining here that is a bummer.
Every one has to carry its own cross....
and not complain about it.