Anguish #NaPoWriMo

. That clock is not working, as always, A paper pasted on its face The same faces litter the library The same voices call out in place.   I too go about my business as usual Hammering at the keyboard Downing coffee and conversation And forget that you are dead.   Except now and then…

“Life is for the living.”

“Life is for the living,” my father used to say. I never really understood what he meant. Oh, I was familiar with death. I was never shielded from it and as a young teen, often accompanied my father on his occasional trips to the crematorium or graveyard. Later, on the way home, I would I…