Poem On Grieving
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In a way

I suppose you can say

that death is inevitable. Why—

it's unavoidable. In fact, while some

may say they want to live their lives and go

on adventures far, far away, I've been waiting for

my demise since that day. Now the question you should

be asking me is on what day, not what happened on that.

Because you see, I don't really know. I know less than my

ill-fated friend 7 feet beneath this grass. I know less than my

God, your God, the gods above, below, within animals and trees.

I know less than the incoming forecasts and the conjectures of the

oceans' seas. I don't know why these things happen to not just me, you,

my friends, strangers, my family! And I suppose that not understanding may be

worse than not knowing because at least if you don't know then usually, you're lucky,

It doesn't even come across your mind. It doesn't gnaw at you like an anxious beaver, prepping for their day. But as I lay awake this morning on this bed, I know that I am here. I know that I am young. I know that I was lost. And I understand that I can't know the things I'd like to because that is what is inevitable, life. Not death. And as I look over into his reflecting, hazel green eyes I remember a smile that was set at its brightest on my coldest of days. These memories and moments, my instances of the past, were just apart of the very journey that I thought I'd never have. I've come to realize that this is the first time in days, weeks, months that I've slept.

And yes this, this is the moment. This is what I feel. This is what I was missing, my reality finally clarifying into something real. And in this moment I wish I knew a word even better than

infinite.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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