The Heart Weeps

My Heart Weeps

How many holes can my heart endure?
Piece by piece, Death takes his share
And leaves me grieving, once more weeping
wondering who Death next will snare.

Time grows older; friend to none.
Loved ones leave; gone before.
When I turn to view those loved ones,
the lines stretch back forever more.

Then I turn to face the future
startled to see before me now,
shoulder to shoulder, infant to elders
Rows and rows, e’en yet unborn.

Hordes of loved ones, lines unbroken
stretch before me, aft and fore.
I hold my place, bow my head.
Thankful tho my heart is broken.

Blessed am I to stand in line.
My heart weeps
from love unspoken.
Yet I rejoice in this place that’s mine.

3 Responses to The Heart Weeps

  1. Jody Young says:

    Honor the seven generations before you; act for the seven that follow. Love this poem.

    • C. L. Roth says:

      Jody, I never was a poet but in the last few years, they come to me. Usually in a time of great agony. I’ve never experienced anything as healing and profound as trying to capture an emotion in the fewest, or rather the most effective words possible. I usually feel like they are a gift, given to me, and meant to be shared. The words will fall on the ears that need to hear.

  2. Penny Pfeiff says:

    Thank you Carol…I do feel your pain in your poetry…but I agree a blessing…

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