Candles in the cathedral burn.
Every hour, at least a few burn.
Memories and prayers made light,
bright reminders of loved ones lost.
You too, light a candle.
For yourself. The lost pieces,
the parts of you withered and murdered
and left to die.
You have survived fine without them.
Most of us do. But still, they are gone,
parts of you died too early, too violently.
You would have preferred a natural evolution,
Still, corpses deserve honoring. Lives,
even your own, deserve remembering
with gratitude. Candles in the cathedral,
songs, poems, gratitude made light.
About this poem.
Don’t you wonder sometimes what happened to the best parts of our inner child? The innocence lost? And what you might have been if someone or events had not beaten things out of you.
Obviously I do, Even when I grateful for the wonderful life I am living, I do.