Just do it is a rule 
fold your clothes is a rule 
Wash stuff and clean it up before giving it away 
is a rule  

So many rules  
So few spoons 

So little hope anymore 
of this mind or body 
making a difference 

Feel the tears coming 

How they rise in the throat 
then sink queasy uneasy 
Sick in the gut 

Self pity 
is just an easy way 
to kick out the loss 

The kind of tough love 
that makes a breaking heart 
homeless 
foraging dumpsters 
for breakfast in bed 
Nowhere to go 
with grief  
at every day dying 
a world once loved 
conditionally albeit, 
By youth full of promise 

Bloated future 
imagined connections, valued efforts, mutual exchanges
The picture of life ending well-loved
Rocking chair
Well traveled porch

Choose whatever symbols you like
for your own personal ecosystem
of belonging

Probably not the rotting in place
tree still standing
Roots receding
keep the appearance
of still hugging the earth

When gone are branches,
Gone the leaves

This heart weeps for days of buds gone by
when something within gave birth
offered something
to grow light on
in return for a rising sun