THE FOUR SEASONS

The spring I knew carried his last voice,
Warm as sunlight, with little noise.
Back then, there was a ray of light,
And a good hope to shine so bright. 

Then summer arrived without warning,
Bringing waves of pain and suffering...
Grief taught me how heavy death can be,
Losing a parent can change everything...

The trauma settled like an unkind guest,
Chest pain settled where ribs should rest.
Health burned raw, hands wouldn't move,
Yet unfinished work still begged to prove.

Autumn came, the season of their turning,
The ones I saved now watched me burning.
My voice grew small, my place grew narrow,
They crossed my bridge and burned the arrow

The same ones I once pulled from the mud,
Began to step around my drying blood.
Where did all the good days go?
I learned to apologize for sun and for snow.

But seasons do not stay forever.
So, let the winter have my absence,
Let them wear that stranger's face,
Let them disregard, let them replace.

I've seen the machine's flatlines before,
Heard the asystole alarm beep.
Yet passed the seasons with disregard;
Perhaps, it's time to go for a deeper sleep.

The grief will fade, the colors will turn new,
Let my footsteps vanish from their view.
Soon, when I walk past their perfect scene,
I'll be the spring they have never seen.  

🙂

-Abrar Fai Yaz