Dukkha- Samsara

Yes, I am familiar with
Kubler-Ross,
the stages of grief,
but no amount of intellectualization
can deaden the pain
and knowing the inevitable
won't act as morphine-
for us, the survivors,
we, who are left behind
there is no balm,
no easy anesthesia.

Death, 
suffering
is the course of all life
the destiny of all things
born.
Philosophers,
theologians
have discussed this
ad infinitum...

Still, what words can I give
you-
widow, orphan,
you-
almost-mother
marred by miscarriage
and to you-
writhing with disease,
to you- left by betrayal.
There is none,
sympathy seems cruel
when all that is needed
is an ear,
an open heart.

And I, too,
must now face this-
the ugly specter, 
Death
(my own mother's dying)
even through the long lingering,
this wearisome vigil,
my weeping waits-
not yet unleashed,
not as my sister's
frequent sobbing...

Numbed
I've always held hurt
within,
stoic,
though tortured nonetheless-
I am teetering on the verge of-
a torrent of tears.


Note- the title is from the Buddhist concept of life's suffering- the inevitability, but, with the transcendence that comes with the knowledge that all life is a cycle- Birth-Death; Struggle-Survival-Renewal. I wrote this during the long vigil of my own mother's death, - she passed on August 1, 2018... Due to my emotion, the ideas and words of the poem came easily, but I feel I may have erred in the placement of commas, line breaks etc. Please feel free to comment .