Grief the human condition is spoken
In waves of blood pushed forth through flesh
In the beating of arteries, in the beating of souls
Abashedly we shamefully, sullied in sin, grasp
Grasp, at what is undeserving, fatally existing
Pain is the requiem of humanity
Plowed and sowed in the man’s plight
The earth grows and shrinks
Underfoot our paths looking never down at our trodden feet
And gnarled toes,
There is no land to walk upon, deluge into seas and storms,
Emotions waking in the electricity of my bones,
Crying out to roaring thunder wailing winds,
Grief is the condition the knowing of pain,
A pain that wounds, in only art is soothed
A soothing pain, an art that wounds