Grief

Grief is but one color

And Pays no attention to race

Speaks one language 

Caring nothing for dialects too numerous to count 

Marks clear territories on fragile  hearts

Leaves a trail familiar to  mourners 

Scoffs at feeble attempts by high society to drown its sound

Squashes all efforts to hinder its hard work

Vanquishes all avenues that expose it's ways

Shackling the strongest of our lot

Spewing casualties along its tracks. 

An external visitor

Persistent and ever so relentless 

On broken hearts, it feasts

Quenching thirst on streams of tears

With Stolen dreams, it fattens it's purse

Shamelessly Dimming smiles along its path

Keeping the joy that once belonged to us

Chanting dirges in place of melodies

Ever Bountiful  with sorrowful gifts

Claims to cause no calamity

But only a candid collector from the valley of skulls

Seeks shelter in the crevices of fractured hearts

Capturing its light when darkness falls

Prowls cities searching for the silenced 

Whose loved ones remain in ashes and dust

Surviving but with limping hearts

Struggling on 

Though Dreading empty days to come

Shuddering at the notion

Of forever seeing the sun rise the wrong way

But grief glories in the agony of the soul

Disguised beneath wet scars

Wounds denied a chance to ever heal

Riding high waves of ancient rivers

In which many drowned 

But those that remain are many too

Centuries stood no chance against our kind

Running, marching, limping, crawling

We soldier onward

And Against the lot of us 

Grief stands no chance