I said it out loud, and I never do.
That’s when you know it’s bad
That’s when you hold on to something until it’s done.
How do you summon the hours before and the bright morning of hope, when the waning sky light overshadows the hazy row of ill?
You search for cups of pain to bathe in, that resemble reasons that make the sister and mother wail for the broken body of a son and brother.
You settle on the woes of the bereaved and victimized for the tangible currency…