Kitchen

Washing plates in the kitchen,
  hearing the wind with its lonely howl.
Desolate, gray, dead leaves
  blow by, mindful of lament.
We need days of sorrow,
  cried out for us in the extreme.
We need to sit with death
  and know it's pain come to visit.
With tears and deep sighs,
  loss challenges us to find love.
Once more we dare, even on
  the sharp edge of this precipice.
Because life is not lived
  all in joy, but in daring to give
Our hearts once again,
  even after the days of suffering.