Wounded Memories; your time is up

A poem about grief

It is human nature to take things for granted

Until we lose it

And then we appreciate it for all the things we did not even like before

And we take it out on the ones who are still here

Because they are still here

And we think we have time

When the last card is sent and the flowers have bloomed

Your time is up

They say you must move on     

There is a job to be done

You have bills to pay

They would not want to see you this way

So life goes on and milestones are met

And you pray that somewhere, some how

They are still a part of it all

And then it gets better because pain heals with time

Or we learn to manage the pain

Or to ignore it

Anything to keep us sane

Caught up in our a ‘successful lives’ setting targets, achieving goals

We are too busy to talk, too tired to care

We take the ones who live for granted

It is their time to go, we are not ready

One more minute, one last hug

Our shoulders are heavy, still carrying the weight from before

Our hearts untended are angry and weak

The insignificant moments become wounded memories unspoken

Your time is up there is a job to be done.

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