The Grief of Death
The eye is pierced,
Exuding a bath of tears so complete—
It bathes the stricken in icy heat.
The heart pulses and contracts
To protect the soul of the supplicant
who appeals at grief’s door,
To scab over wound or to mire
The soul in remembrance--
To better enfold the beloved.
Attend you to the primacy of its passion.
Its heat so ready to pierce anew
The unshriven heart.
A bittersweet reminder