Because writing is healing.
It does not cease to be beautiful in its own absence
by Ruqaiyah Davids
I will not discount the time passed.
The days have been quiet;
The months have felt bare.
When it was needed, it was there.
I will not colour it empty
Nor will I taint it with untruth.
It was a beautiful thing
While it was in its youth.
If it is gone now,
It will still be beautiful.
It does not cease
To be beautiful in its own absence.
But its scent grows light.
Its strength becomes slight.
Harder to keep it going
When it’s no longer in sight.
But beautiful it will always be.
Its shades of truth, I will always see.