Death’s sharpest sting is loss and pain and grief,
To lose not once, but ever staying lost,
Like blazing sun subliming fragile frost,
White wreathing coils so beautiful and brief.
It hurts so much to lose your family,
Your friends, as one by one they fall away,
And to be stabbed by memory, as they
Can’t hear new jokes, or see new things to see.
But, (says the sonnet’s cruel twisting turn,)
You had them in your life this long, rejoice!
You shared this much with them, and you could learn
From who they were, their thoughts, you heard their voice,
Loved them as they loved you, and though we yearn,
It’s really not like dying is a choice.
9th September 2023
