Three Years

I feel like I should do something,

Make something,

Anything,

Just do it for him.

But somehow,

Somewhere,

I can't.

My paper is empty; my pen is motionless,

No words come,

Have I simply lost

those

sad

feelings

that compelled me to write

so long ago?

Or is it because,

In all the world,

There are no words,

to express

how I feel?

How the whole world feels?

How they feel?

How

do

we

feel

when

the

stars

are

gone?

...

Nothing.

We feel nothing.

The grief comes only later,

dull and aching sorrow,

Then fades away,

into nothing

more

than

longing.