Even Hurt

The sky was forming poems

beautiful

in the sadness of its gray coat.

My eyes were feeling the sorrow

with which the clouds enveloped the souls

gathered underneath.

A little girl twirling her hair around her index finger

watching others smiling at a little puppy

she wondered how long before she could curl up in her own bed

not seeing the sky or feeling the wind on her face.

A boy happy to join his friends

in a game of soccer

kicking the ball

laughing

his laughter soft breeze circling the grass.

As the sky continued to burn above

unaware of the passage of the day,

we stood in the wind

observant of the movement around us.

I love myself

and this day

and my hurt

even that,

I am alive

as this burning sky.

I hope the girl looks up

and sees the fire

makes ashes in her own soul

and the boy

continues to laugh,

and my hurt goes away.