At Each Loss

I renovate at each day at each nail each eyelash, each hair at each silly feeling I thought it was a dream and which was just a nightmare. I change at each pain at each stab from destiny at each horror for realizing I hadn't live, yet for a brief moment, some flaming blaze that could have awoke my libido I allow my death at each loss and I convert myself through the holy communion so God can concede me ressurrection at the third day And yet that it bleeds a little and that there's crying at each funeral of mine There will never be another dead (and see that it is my spoil) that have lived so ardently! Patricia Evans