It is really not sad.
It was always our destiny.
A deathly emptiness is encamped in our soul.
My mind is a mass grave, an accumulation of broken bits who could not last.
With trailing blankets and toys
clutched securely, they crawl to their final place.
Let them not weep. Let them know that
it is okay to go.
We have stayed too long.
Pay no attention to the tears that
somberly commit suicide down my cheeks.
It does not hurt any more.
Oh, how we are letting go.