Words for the Glorious Ones

No words
for this…
just darkness,
the cold envelopes
as the lungs are sore
from heaving,
the elemental forces of
sorrow…
making getting up,
a hard act
to follow.

What is this disease…
making my ilk weak,
known as grief?
Although
persistent and indefatigable
it will not claim us
among
the defeated.

We’ve been seeded
with something
more glorious
than most –
a toast
to all of us…
as we get up.

Published by Shun P. Writes

Author, Genealogist, Writer, Poet, Podcast Host, possessor of 2 cents, Blogger and eternal student of life, who harbors a firm belief in his Grandmother's mantra that: "People need to get off of their rump and do something". All while keeping in mind that a cheering section will often get in the way. View all posts by Shun P. Writes