The Afterlife It was death when you left, meaning everything Since then has been the afterlife. I walked through hell, amazed that I could walk at all. I couldn’t meet the eyes of those I met there. I knew the same pain I saw in their eyes burned in mine. But in time I found I could stop and talk with them. One night I met a woman. She had it worse than I did — He hadn’t left her. He’d died. We walked together Like convalescents in a garden, my hand filled with The wonder of hers, hers filled with the wonder of mine. The others noticed, gave us hopeful smiles. But like The mothers of hostages, we had nothing in common But our pain. What’s strange was how sure we were We were in hell. We weren’t in hell. We’d survived.
The Afterlife
The Afterlife
The Afterlife
The Afterlife It was death when you left, meaning everything Since then has been the afterlife. I walked through hell, amazed that I could walk at all. I couldn’t meet the eyes of those I met there. I knew the same pain I saw in their eyes burned in mine. But in time I found I could stop and talk with them. One night I met a woman. She had it worse than I did — He hadn’t left her. He’d died. We walked together Like convalescents in a garden, my hand filled with The wonder of hers, hers filled with the wonder of mine. The others noticed, gave us hopeful smiles. But like The mothers of hostages, we had nothing in common But our pain. What’s strange was how sure we were We were in hell. We weren’t in hell. We’d survived.