You said, “Good morning,” but she whispered back, “Good night.”
So you tried to light a candle but could not recapture swallowed light.
She tried to drown in rivers to see if death’s more clear,
But destiny always refilled her lungs and held on too tight.
You wonder now if a reflection of herself would increase her sight,
But she’s covered all the mirrors.

Let’s look at happy images set in cold relief,
But don’t look for breath on the glass in case she refuses to breathe.

And you can’t cry away the sadness in her face;
No smile lines around her mouth are left to trace.
There’s only deprived silence in the rooms where life once lay.
You ask God if he could ever restore grace
To her throne in your dark, forsaken place,
But God will never say.

So live in her world where death blows wind from beneath.
Just keep on praying that she won’t feel the breeze.