There’s a cloak wrapped tight around me.
A cloak of grief.
A cloak of fear.
A cloak of wanton weariness.
Keeping me dry,
From tears that threaten to rain.
Softening painful memories,
That strike like buffeting winds.
My mother.
My sister.
My grandmother.
My familial trinity gone.
Reunited and cleansed of mortal imperfection.
Their love now pure.
Safe.
Warm.
I feel them always near,
Though gone from sight and sound.
I hold them snug around my beating heart,
By the cloak wrapped tight around me.