No black feathered ravens, but white feathered birds
Stoically perched, before the threshold
Of mourning mortals, and silent souls.
Stood long with my head bowed,
Until invited inside…

Soaking in the Grief,
Instinctively initiating chants in my head
Of a lord long ignored.

A day of endings this,
Of reminders and silent tears,
Ironically some for those not even known
And then some more,
For those who once meant all the world to me…
Misunderstandings, regrets,
And an unwilling acceptance
Of how all will now always be.