Each year, that day comes
The Yarzeidt, the anniversary,
The commemoration
It will hurt
It always does
Each year
The recollection
There is a feeling
When you re-explore
The moments before
When the world was as it had been
The time you awoke,
How you felt,
What you wore
The weather
And then, the moment after
Fear, anguish, grief upon grief upon grief
The new world and the old one never to be again
Tomorrow, the day after, you
Adjust to the missing
The grief never fully abated
Remaining as, in time, a soft shadow
Or a phantom limb
You are forced to return
To new normal
You wake up and proceed
Perhaps you smile
I think that is what they would have wanted
To live, to experience
with greater care
For moments
Whose value cannot be told
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