A poem to express how I feel about losing things

This isn't good poetry, but it expresses how I feel. It is some relief that I have been able to finally find the words to describe it, pitiful though they may be, because I feel as though I am being eaten. The first line is taken from one of my poems from a while back.

~

Uprooted

The small grey church is still a home of sorts,
Behind the trees, between the fields.
And I may no longer wander down these leafy lanes
Nor sit in contemplation, nor in celebration
And I am rootless as the old trees that once fell;
That once fell and now are dead and strong inside my small grey church

And what is home when time has fled away?
May I be allowed still to sit and weep, or must
I break
and fall, disjointed, over tumbling rocks in mind and soul and
body -
Until I am once more whole, as such?

And where is God when I am here, away?

For the small grey church is still a home of sorts
A home I may no longer see
O God
Where art thou?
If that is now denied to me?

~


I feel so cold, inside.