by Pavel Chichikov
Of grandpa's house there's nothing left –
Except low walls and wild lilac
Low foundations, jagged brick
His life is gone, there's nothing left
Except old stories
Photographs, forgotten faces
Jesus, you died long ago –
Where do the living go?
The living need to know
I am here, be comforted –
But if you must be terrified
By death, then know I died
I too felt the voiding fear
But I am here
Who once was nullified
Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may also visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.
