My paper, my pencils, my keychains, my glue,
They're nowhere to be found,
Nowhere, it's true,
But it does not matter much
That, now, I don't have any work to do.
The sigh for the loss of rainy days overcast
Along the lake
After the shingly overpass
Does not matter much
That, now, the time does not go so fast.
The weeping for the loss of diamond rings,
Fitted and shiny,
Bright as angel wings,
Does not matter much
That, now, I need not the shape of things.
And the loss of my home, beneath the sky,
That sits near a river
Where the salmon swim by,
Does not matter much
That, now, home is here, where I now lie.
And I lost where all my cities were lain,
Where the lions
Slept on every lane,
But it does not matter much,
For I have an even greater pain.
The tragedy of the loss of you, my child,
For the only one I've wept for,
The only one I adore,
Never passes
Because you know I'll wait for you
On God's golden shore.
K. Jared Hosein
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/death-loss/
