i mourn the passing of all living things:
a squirrel on the road,
my cat on the vet's table,
my grandmother, wheezing, pale and thin.
wisp of smoke, a few ashes,
a plot of earth,
silence, and a certain emptiness of space
are all that remain.
i mourn the passing of all living things,
mourn the frailty of life and the living
and encounter, with sudden and sharp clarity,
all my failings
and how little i loved.