This sadness. This outrageous, uncalled-for sadness. This grief with no name. This moment, this lifetime, a tragic ending. This Not Supposed To Be.
This opening of possibilities, this testament to the worst that can happen. The worst can happen.
This sadness the cord that both feeds and strangles me. The young death. The birth slept through. This nonconsent. This potential, missed.
These bright flashes, brilliant and certain. This fallout.
Palm leafs for a funeral. This holy grief. Who is blessed?