It Is Then You Hear The HUSH

It is when the funeralís over and the family has gone home,
That you suddenly discover just how much you are alone.
When that fateful day has ended, and itís time to go to bed,
Total emptiness then grips you, and you heart feels just like lead.

With your misted eyes you notice all the flowers in the house.
You recall the many greetings: "Weíre so sad you lost your spouse."
But the sentiments are empty. No one knows just how you feel.
For the devastation in you, you donít think will ever heal.

It is then you look around you, and you see your loved-oneís things.
Oh what pain wells up within you! How your soul with anguish wrings!
When your eyes fall on his sweater hanging limp behind the door,
It is then the cruel truth hits you: He wonít need it anymore.

When you look out through your window, you see the same old things:
The worldís not at a stand still! New sorrow this fact brings.
Why does life keep on like always? Whyís there action everywhere?
It is then you feel like screaming: "Doesnít anybody care?"

When you think of all the pleasures you and he had often shared,
You are filled with sudden anger--for his death you werenít prepared.
All those dreams of pleasant leisure as you reach your senior years:
All those plans of fun together, just bring on a flood of tears.

When your headís upon your pillow, and you try your best to rest,
It is then you hear him whisper: ďOur Lord knows what is best.
Donít give up, my darling partner. I will always be around.
Carry on as though Iím with you. Thereís a new life to be found.Ē

It is then, when all is darkness, and lifeís at its very worst,
You can feel his words of comfort, like a rain cloud that has burst,
Start to heal your heart thatís broken. As with tears your soulís awash,
Thereís a stillness creeping through you. It is then you hear THE HUSH.


© Helen Dowd


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