Poetry : Death of a Flower

I wrote this poem within a year of losing my aunt to cancer and my cousin to an aneurysm. It is about mourning and grief.

the mourning by onkel_wart

What heals these wounds?

Like
one endless funeral procession.

The owls
are forever screeching
in our trees ---

---Calling out
the names.

Now lost
to the
infinite blackness,
akin to the night sky.

---Predicting our losses
which loom so large.

As if
each soul
were as nameless
as a star,
or
a million rosary beads.

At this hour
counting seems
futile
to the
billions
who feel lost,

here
wearing their mourning

like
owls wear their feathers.

---July 23, 1999 Amber © All Rights Reserved.