Today marks a year
since the day I died
well... the piece of me that cares

I always thought I knew
where I was headed
and who I was
saved by grace
and all that jazz

but now I've walked through hell

I've stopped believing
in the afterlife
if this is what it means

I'll accept this quest
of eternal search
to find pieces of my soul
and reconnect the parts of me
to try to be alive


Prompt: "A year after your death, ..." (after Czeslaw Milosz) from A Writer's Book of Days

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