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The Widower
it is sad, of course, you lost a wife,
buried her, and now you are still mourning in
black clothes and black pants and black shoes
and even your visions must have been
blackened by such overwhelming sorrow,
how can I comfort you, my friend?
how can I tell you that you are eating some
slices and chunks of sorrow which are poisonous?
try me, listen to me,
I want to lose a wife, I want to lose not just her,
I want to lose myself, I am losing in this war of emotions,
I am not eating chunks and slices of sorrow,
I am being engulfed by this monstrous eclipse,
This total eclipse of my heart, my own darkness
I am digested by this darkness, I am acidified.
So you see, Melvin, my dear friend
there is such thing as a muddier, blacker pasture over here.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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