Stubborn Habits

The world has this stubborn habit of continuing after a tragedy.
The sun still shambles along the sky chasing the ever elusive moon.
Rivers still run their perpetual marathon.
The earth still spins as if showing off her pretty dress.
They are too preoccupied to notice your trivial tragedies.
Indeed, some subjectively are.
How dare the sun shine when a beloved character in a book dies.
How dare the rivers run when your furry, four-legged family member passes.
How dare the world continue when it is on fire.

Some tragedies run deep. They leave no physical scars
But riddle the soul with emotional tissue that will never fade,
Never heal.
They become a part of you,
You tolerate them.
You work around them,
Like using your other senses more
With the loss of one.
You hope to find answers,
The why’s and how’s,
But the world is too busy to be concerned with your loss
Of blood,
Of tissue,
Of bone,
Of soul.

The sun chases, the rivers run, the earth spins, and you cry.
Just another day. Just another tragedy.
Yet stubbornly,
You go on.

photo credit: khalid almasoud via photopin cc