Loss

Moonlight softens the darkness.
But not the raging of the mind.
Anger floats above conscious thought.
‘Why?’ is the the question.
It rises above the pain.
No, rides with it in joy.
I look with clouded eyes.
At the moon outside.
Questions and pleas anew begin.
But one pushes the others away.
‘Why did you take her?’ A scream.

Loss

Svalbard

Cork, Ireland

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