Death ran rampant that year.

Death of the woman who thought

even I was a saint,

death of my daughters

closest friend,

death of my grandmothers mother.

Inside me, I was dying from

death of a baby,

unborn in my womb,

the words “there’s no heartbeat”

Broke me.

Death of a best friends unborn baby,

death of her husbands father

and best friend.

Death of a baby just born,

my little niece,

pure and beautiful.

We weren’t sure we would

make it out

of that year alive,

but we did.

Death is a part of life,

hard to accept when

it’s our own loved ones.

Death takes breath

straight from lungs

and life from those

once breathing

with those same lungs.

Death breaks hearts,

even the most innocent

of them all,

it’s inescapable.

Death ran rampant that year

But we survived.

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