I should be mourning
Death stings my ear as I hear the news
Buzzing through translation I inhale only to exhale the blues
Work builds up like skyscrapers kissing a glistening full moon
All the while I should be mourning
Why aren’t my shoulders hunched over and countenance low?
My brows dipped in like foot prints in newly fallen snow
How do I smile when things go so awry
The truth is The TRUTH IS let me tell you why
God is still God and I have a chance
To live, to work, to love again
So, while things stink like festering trash
I’m not a trash collector
That would be my dad
He gives beauty for ashes, grace for fear
Turns water into wine, and makes bread and fish appear
He told me its ok to cry… but when morning comes
Have joy because a marathon tried is a race well run.
Plug into Parenthood 