Most deaths quake the earth of at least one little person.
Death shakes humans up and we’re never ready for him.
If your mother dies, then a part of you dies with her.
Cruel, unnatural is her cold, immobile body.
Don’t get used to it. It’s wrong and awful. Shocking.
One death quaked the earth, and the sun switched off for hours.
Time stopped, nothing was; just a young man and his father.
If your child dies, then a part of you dies with him.
“This is all there is”; so it’s merely weak, pathetic.
But I have to ask, why aren’t we more OK with it?
Death died, so did I. On that day, I gave up fighting.
At dawn, later on, something broke to let the light in.
Life lived once again and it changed this world we die in.
Sunday, on its way, though it’s nighttime watch for us now;
Stay up, wait with me, while we stand on this quaking ground.