I should be mourning…

I should be mourning…

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.

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