The Moya View
When your mother dies
you grieve,
vow to change,
say a prayer,
plant a memory tree.
When your father dies
you swallow hard,
set yourself square,
curse all his mistakes,
and seed an oak.
When your brother/sister dies
you cry
for the good times,
regret their bad ones,
carve their dreams in evergreens.
When your wife, husband, lover dies
you sunder and wail,
fumble for reunion,
finally settle enough
to sow a weeping willow.
When you die
the world will bury you
or spread your ashes
in the peace forest
you have mournfully grown.
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JONATHAN MOYA
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Very evocative as only you can do it. You have experienced most of this so personally. Good writing.
Absolutely beautiful!
Absolutely beautiful indeed! Wow oh my this is good 😮
wow this is seriously an impactful piece of work. Thank you for sharing this. It is very touching.
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