The dark heavy clouds

The nights of heavy rain

It pours out through the earth

And makes the stems grow out sustained

The sun shines brightly in the morning

It is then the start of a new day

And after everything has dried and flourished

I still don’t hear his name.

He is no longer here

In the earth, he doesn’t remain

What a disheartening grief it is, to fathom and live life this way!

For ever since the moment he entered his grave,

There has been no thought of him except that we felt pain

They reassure and say, “After the storm, perhaps you’ll be okay”

But how come I feel thunder in my mind everyday?

When will my storm end, when will life become the same?

If he isn’t here, then I’m afraid I might not make it to the end of the day

The time when the moon comes out and I sleep and hope for a better day…