Death Ripped Him from Her.

The jagged edges of his death cut through her heart,

tearing it out and displaying it for all to see.

She looked at it forcing the blood around her body

hating it for keeping her alive when he had gone.


Texting messages that showed hope, when        she

knew the the white coated spectre’s voices echoed

in her brain, body colluding with mind to shatter

the day which had started out so promising, and now


as the sun dropped from the horizon and blackness

rose from the earth and seized its opportunities to

draw the light from his countenance too, leaching

slowly the singular life which had shared such joy.


She knelt in tears, and quietly her head screamed

for something to wind back the time and for this to

be something to warn against tomorrow, not now. 

The wet flowed down her cheeks wetting his dry skin


as she leaned in for a kiss, to remind him that she was 

still there and still waiting for him to come leaping 

back with the adventures of today bright in his eyes,

and the warmth of his arms as they spun her around.


No-one spoke as she shifted her aching hand in his

but somewhere the emptiness glowed with a light

and the crucified, crippled body of another man

whispered, ‘I am here too.”

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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