These tears are shaken
From the wrath-bearing tree
~ T. S. Eliot
Grief hangs heavy on us all.
We just have different ways to express it.
These past few months have shown us that. And by that I do not mean the countless souls that since passed on. Or the loved ones and the lives they have left behind.
No this is for us. The others.
Men, women, children. Those that have fought and won.
And those that are well, reasonably healthy and safe. Those.
But how is this grieving you ask?
Not all that see are given sight.
Not all can truly hear.
Few, if any, truly listen.
The world is grieving.
Its arms are heavy, burdened, eyes bloodshot, swollen over and a heart constricted and wrought with a pain that cannot be measured.
And deep inside as the walls begin closing in, and darkness void breathes, there is this.
A trickle when pain cannot be spoken out loud.
The silent tear across the cheek.
These tears
Shaken
These tears
The wrath
Wrath
Unfolding
Each one
A price
Measured,
Unmoving
These tears
All of us
Each one
Ours unending.
~ Judith Vaddi
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