my modesty, my gratitude,
built in your name,
your image,
you, who created a dream for me,
who joined two lives together for me,
you with your voice,
across the phone in several tongues,
bringing countries together,
so I could understand,
Ama,
Grief cannot be a word to describe my punctured heart now,
full, pulsating,
You took me me from hell,
and made me a heaven,
You gave me what no other could,
Love like yours, only a dream could form
A love like yours, is what the Angels come pray at the feet for,
A love like yours, not to be experienced in this life again,
You in your coffin now,
how traumatising it is,
for me to live a life alone,
A backbone you became,
yet today,
I grow collapsed,
Ribs not carrying the weight of this heavy heart.
What are hearts?
Only pulsating flesh,
causing iridescent views on life,
A suffering which cannot be put into words.
These words are weak.
I will try again, to ignite the memory of you.