Rough Drafts...

On the days shattered like ice 

The ghosts of those still living arise

The cost of their abandon

    Reveal how immense the void

    The price

    We rush with prayers to fill space

Or sit with cuts on our hands

A balm of memories 

Bitter now to understand

Every breath that told warm buttery lies 

The air is gray and time moves by

So slow 

As if it has papers to grade 

And no wish to fly 

Sleepless and breathless we pace 

Looking for peace or a taste 

Empty offerings left aside

The rest and the love denied