Comment on this article

by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal

dare i say
i'm mad so mad
with grief i
can barely speak

much less write the kind
of words meant
to voice what we've lost–
what you've done

the impossible
the terrible hell thinking
how you must've felt

sinking so low you
saw no where left to go
no poem left
to lift you back

the poems you'll never write
more clouds
to scrawl across
slate-black sky

overhead a constant class
you the consummate teacher
now teaching no lesson
we care to learn

life much much less dear than
before you wrote
your very last


Return to:

[New] [Archives] [Join] [Contact Us] [Poetry in Motion] [Store] [Staff] [Guidelines]