Curiously Ignorant

It occurs to me
On this crystal clear night
That I know nothing of bereavement

I’ve felt my share of sadness
And shed a tear
For those I’ve loved and lost

But I cannot begin to grasp
The soul devouring anguish
Which epitomizes the heartache of the bereaved

I hope against hope
To never feel that depth of pain,
A pain I cannot begin to fathom

I must confess a curiosity however
As to the nature of such pain
A whim to understand its intensity

As most of life
Remains mysterious
Perhaps I’ll never know

Or I might be blessed by such love
And cursed by such loss
More likely I’ll simply remain

Curiously Ignorant