On a Plurality already Forgotten

Life must, although it feels so wrong, go on,
Though everything about us is just worse;
And I, as ever, process it in verse.
The joy and hope I had is sadly gone
And dark has swallowed what appeared a dawn-
A blessing harshly tuned into a curse.
But vain it seems it will be to rehearse
The loss. The sun itself is pale and wan.
We must go on. In pain if not in bliss
Never forgetting that we hoped for her
Nor letting them pretend we were not there.
Let no one think when they remember this
She was not worthy, or we did not care,
Or there were more of them. Insist we were.