6 lines, 5 beats per
We huddled in groups,
our shoulders shaking.
“Look,” a classmate said,
pointing to the sky
with a trembling hand,
“God is crying too.”
7 lines, 8 beats per
The chapel was filled with mourners,
some silently shaking, others
screaming heart-wrenching sobs, broken.
Someone near the front was singing,
"His Eye Is On The Sparrow," and
I sang it softly to myself
as I walked through the rain outside.
A classmate of mine, a senior that graduated last year, died last Sunday.
Please pray for eveyone dealing with her loss.
I like writing poetry. Not all of it is going to be a historical epic or an ode to something. These are like little glimpses of the subway in my mind; my train of thought isn't always artsy or symbolic or deep or meaningful, but I like to think that art takes ordinary things and makes people see a sort of beauty in them. So, look around- I've been doing this for a while. Enjoy ♥
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