The Valley of Loss
Age bought me to this valley I must walk,
there is no turning back, I have no choice.
All those who went before me now lie still,
unanswered are the sounds of my own voice.
A soft white bed beneath, this valley floor
with every step I take I hear it sing,
a gentle dirge of sorrow to the dead,
no Nightingale, this sound the song of springs.
The winding strands around me are not trees
but tubes and wires that rise to right and left
horizon nothing more than a flatline,
mere confirmation of a soul bereft.
My parents walked this valley, brother too,
and recently good friends though none will cross,
some saw this path approach, some never knew,
the deeper that I go, deeper my loss.
November 14th, 2017
For contest 'Empty your soul with words', sponsored by Broken Wings.
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