When Grandpa died
I lost a bit of laughter,
I lost some faith that kept me walking
In carefree hope.
When Dad died,
I lost a bit of my courage,
A bit of patience
And part of me went down the tubes.
When my sister died
All colors from the paintings were gone,
My hair turned white in six months,
And I started to dream in black and white.
Today, broken legs,
I am still walking.
This burden weighing on my back,
The burden of stubbornness, of missing,
The burden of unbearable love.
HBP Jun 2014
This work by Helena Beatriz Pacitti is licensed under a Creative Commons Atribuição-Uso não-comercial-Vedada a criação de obras derivadas 3.0 Unported License