Sunday, May 29, 2016

Poem 6 | Mothers

Fathers die and Mothers fade
into their skins folding
into cracks. The cold thin
lines of their hairs are drawn into
a crown, much like the
fading gray rays of sunset.

We are all drawn unto death
much like the sun,
set to fade into the west,
unwilling like a child's heart
that cracks open upon the might
of approaching death.

And there is no relief
from this kind of despair,
because we must bear pain
in order to move on from life
that fades into the unknown
but possible rebirth.

1 comment:

hitaakademi said...

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broşür dağıtım ankara hizmette
sinir tanimiyor...