Description: This poem is meant to expose in us, in all of us, the shame that comes with greif. The way we will take something bad, horrible, gruesome, and deathdealing, and misuse it. Put it before us like a shield and hide behind it like the cowards it turns us into. Then, when we've done all we can to give a rhyme to our dysfunction, and the miserable protectorate is finally depleted, we are somehow forced to fall into the love that we missed and longed for, and it can kill us. It kills us because we've forgotten who to be, who we were before we found and cloaked ourselves with that shroud of sorrow.
...and as always, give me the unadulterated truth about your opinion
So you see grief as an abdication of reason that robs us of dignity and initiates the pendulum swing that transports us from irrational joy to irreducible defeat? Actually, your description yielded more info on your philosophy than the write itself. I agree under certain circumstances mass quantities of grief rob us of initiative (like Romero's zombies), but a reasonable period of mourning, for whatever reason, is essential. An interesting write. Welcome aboard the ES express. Take care. Bill.