Loss

In very early morning, when the sun is not yet high. A baby lets out one last breath, and enters the endless fog of death In some time of day. A women holds her head. Despite her deepest hopes her hair has died instead. In the blue afternoon a teen makes a sigh. Her eyes are red and swollen all that’s left has been stolen. In the shady evening, an old man sits in church. Head bare and old He prays his prayer alone In the dark of the night, Both creatures take flight. A claw makes a swipe. A mouse is stripped of life Worry shakes us with no empathy, until we feel true fear We feel the slice of loss From the ones we hold near Beckons beg from a bright bold world. but please worry not. Because what is worth the pain, is surely worth a lot.