At first glance, all is well;
The sky is bluer than ever I remember,
the clouds taller and softer.
Light pours itself generously,
and life basks in its glory.
Trees tower, green and full of life,
connected by lines of linens that float in the breathy wind.
Carefree they flow,
innocent and white.
If peace were to have a dwelling place,
it would be here.
But, it’s ironic how picturesque the sight…
what can I say, but that appearances lie?
At closer look, it’s quite apparent;
The sky is only clear by way of the storm,
the clouds only soft after emptied of their darkness.
And beneath such darkness there is no hope,
there is no light of day.
Not only is life kept from blooming,
it’s kept from being lived.
Tall trunks are overwhelming,
casting shadows on shallow graves.
White sheets are not carefree,
nor do they represent innocence.
On the contrary, they’re ghosts;
lingering souls over those that lie below them.
If you look closely, you’ll see the cobwebs;
they draw death where life was once painted.
But, the cruelest thing of all is not that he took those I loved most…
it’s that he didn’t take me with them.