Paradoxical echoes

The loss of one’s own child

Is to truly lose part of oneself

Unlike some mere appendage

That grief is a different sort of pain

Life is too impotent to prepare us for

And that pain resonates deep within

A sacred place only love can know

I’d dare say- love realizes, it’s damaged           

It’s a wound of yours without a scar

Unseeable, to indicate some healing

Evermore timeless and unrecoverable

Despite a plethora of touted platitudes                                            

When meaningful love is unconditional

So too remains its unconditional…injury  

.

Poet of the Light © 2022

9 thoughts on “Paradoxical echoes

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