Elegy

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