The Far Side of Tomorrow

The sun will not rise tomorrow.

I know it won’t.

Because you made it rise.

I know you did.

I know….

I know your casket handles are cold

And the mud sticks to my shoes.

How buried is your smile?

How gone is your laugh?

How lost is my heart?

Why did you go first?

Are you as alone on your side

As I am on mine?

Then I ache for us both.

The rain shatters,

Drops fractured as my life.

Is God crying?

Or am I? Or are you?

What will we do without the sun?

Are you sure I can’t go with you?

How does anybody survive this pain?

I cannot sleep, yet I cannot face the days.

Or the nights.

Oh, no, no, no, not the nights.

The hole you left craters me from the inside out.

You gave me your heart.

I gave you my heart.

I never meant for you to take yours back.

I never thought you’d bury mine.

Our plans for tomorrow were bright.

Now the far side of tomorrow yawns empty.

Vacant.

Devoid.

Barren.

A thesaurus of nothingness.

Sandra L. Shea, Ph.D.

Family & Community Medicine