Personal losses unseen, unshared, unknown-
She pulls the threads, and spins them into stories.
Drops of blood flow out from mind to pen,
Stained by the gamut of human emotions;
She gathers them up, shares them with the world.
Her careful capture of the human cost
Shatters our complacence; piercing shards
Shred through our blinkers, demand that we should see.
I skim the latest Friday submissions,
And sigh with relief to see her name is there.
She is still alive. Still serving her people
As best she can.