Not Even Happiness
By Bailey Judis
A whisper of charcoal lace
Across a carpet
Of fallen leaves
Their wrinkled skin
Golden in the afterlife.
Drip, drip,
Each droplet a diamond prism.
But we don’t speak
Of the widow’s sadness in
missing her lover.
She is only shadow
of the sun,
A letter never sent,
Lost in the waves.
We admire sadness,
In temples, in tombs,
But forbid it from ever
Entering our hallowed walls.
Never let sadness take root.
If you never plant the seed,
Nothing can grow.
Not even happiness.
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