poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
and today it snowed,as if her body had been obliteratedfalling down in the form of snowflakes,the whole house bereft of her,coated in white,her purity,all those who she helped,now gather in affliction, the ground preparing for her coffin,now cold,a cold grave,like the dua, for tandak to be spread,she will lay,in peace