Passed Away

This sunday is grey. A sunday means to be beautiful.
But this isn’t a beautiful day.
The leaves from the dead trees are a deadfull mess of dirt and mud.
Hearts breaking still in that loud and painful thud.
.
Unbelief wounding in this lifeless silence, like a deep cut.
Tears are spilling onto the stones of their names,
their souls forever marked into our hearts.
.
When you want to cry but you can’t because your tongue is cut out.
When you want to scream in frustration but your throat is closed.
When you want to see and believe but your eyes; they’re blind because they’re tear stained.
And you know the answer. They don’t live anymore. Your loved ones.
There are no more the caring moments, the laughters, the kisses, the waves, the connections, the serious moments and the close times.
….
The cold raindrops are falling on the leaves slowly and sadly making me think about the time in the processing of my mourning.
A shiver is breaking free against my cold body.
A loud sob is escaping my trembling lips..