by Ronda Lawson
I dare to write to you of life,
not death,
believing, as I do,
that having drawn the final breath
does not mean life is through.
It still goes on, our bit of life:
the sun still gives us light,
the loss still clenches at our throat,
but day turns into night,
and night turns into day again,
and on and on it goes.
There may be more to it than that,
but no one really knows.
We go on, too, however hurt,
and all that I can say
is that were better for the love
we share along the way.
And love we risk unselfishly
on little souls in fur,
may makes us even richer
than we ever thought we were,
and makes our little bit of life
much brighter.
I believe
we find ourselves rewarded
when we love
and lose
and grieve.
-Ronda Lawson
1/27/04