I'm sorry, man.

For Damon

Words are insufficient, as is prayer,
heartfelt hugs, or pattings on the back,
or lingered gazes, thickening the air
with sympathy. The cavalcade of black
does nothing, nor the Godsman's honeyed words,
nor bitter tears wrung out of you today,
tomorrow, or the next. The days will blur
together, all the colors turn to gray.

But time will pass, and you will know she's gone.
Her face will start to disappear from view,
her voice will fade. And you will carry on;
For better or for worse, it's up to you.
The colors brighten up. The rain feels wetter.
It never goes away, but you get better.


We're here for you, brother. For what it's worth, our thoughts and prayers (where applicable) are with you.