Sunday Stanza: Poem Fifty Two-Lament By Hannah Williams

building hands bristled and bruised turns heaviness into light
and the ugly tears streaming from the broken but beautiful hearts
ask the fragmented hope to forget thy not and rejoice to remember thee
not as a song, not as prayer but it rises in that similitude
above the firmament and encircling the sky
it asks the clouds to lament but not weep.
because our tears rise high and the pain never numbs
this is how it feels to lose the one we thought would overcome.

 

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