If you were here I'd hand you anger on a plate,
shield my eyes and step away,
tell you 'smash the lot the floor is slate'.
And that would be OK.
And we could walk - through the wood towards the slope,
only air and land would hear you call -
cry and shout and swear and break and fall.
And it's OK to fall, it's OK to hit the floor,
tear the earth and open every door -
rage and hate and all you've come to know.
And you could curse the sky,
life and moments ticking by,
every single living thing that passes near your eye.
Why me? Why oh why oh why oh why?
My girl, my heart, my soul, my all,
why were you the one to die?
And you could stay all day, every tear you have to shed,
well and fall and drip and run away -
grass and soil, slope and wind and rain.
And one day to the sea,
wave and water, salt and breeze,
wild ocean full of life and full of mother's grief.
And heaven and earth?
What of those who're stuck in hell?
Need today for answers, rage and space?
If you were here I'd hold your hand then turn and walk away... x
Image by Three Zero Photography
I am linking this post to Prose For Thought