Griefs
By Kittie
I weigh each grief I meet With analytic eyes; I question if it weighs as much as mine, Or is it less. I ponder if they upheld it long, Or did it just begin? I cannot recall the day of mine, The pain feels so old. I wonder if life is pain, And if they have to try, And if they ould choose between them, They would rather choose to live and not die. I wonder if when the years have passed- Thousands of them- on the question Of early pain, if such a pass Could make them stop; Or would they let the pain continue Through centuries ahead, Enlightened to a greater pain With the comparison of Love. Many grieve, I am told; The reason is more- Death comes only once, And only closes the eyes. There's many greifs- A type called gloom There's exile of familar eyes In familar land. And I may not know the kind Correctly, to me A stabbing comfort it emits In passing Calvary, To comment the style of the cross, Of those whom are outcast I'm still amazed to believe That some are like me.this poem is about grief, those who meet and experience it,and how they deal with it. this was inspired by Emily Dickinson! i hate her stuff!!! *-* Written November 13th, 2001 © on Nov 12 2001 04:42 PM PST 0 • 1
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"I weigh each grief I meet..."