This sorrow,
This itchy cloak
Flung on me,
Clawing at my skin,
Closing me in
Obscuring the sunlight,
What use is sorrow?
Why mourn?
Why weep?
Why pour out my tears for what is gone?
Why submerge myself for what is lost?
I grasp my hope in my hands,
Clutching tightly,
My fingers pointing up,
My head lifted up,
My prayers rising up.
