Standing Solitude

Quietly he is standing there,
His face holds mourning
The atmosphere around him,
Is like the calm before the storming.
Evidence of his love,
Now lies beneath the soil.
He is present in body,
But his soul's in turmoil.
The earth holds no color,
Only the grayness of the skies,
Thunder booms around him,
He lets' out loud cries.
Dropping to the earth,
He beats it with his hands,
As he weeps with much sorrow,
He lies upon the land.
Rain beats upon his body,
But he no longer cares,
He only wishes for the pain to stop,
And hopes for granted prayers.
 

April Bowering-Chesworth
© 1999