Eyes full, aching heart, fighting them back, but they spill over.
Inhale, exhale.
Breathe.
Dabbing at the overflow, the ache grows. Final acceptance of the inevitable.
Grief, loss, a death with no grave to mark it's passing.
No one to hold me, no one to tell me, it will be OK.
Alone in grief, praying for it to pass swiftly, no smiles today, just miles and miles of grief.
Inhale, exhale.
Breathe.
Grey skies and crows cawing. An ache for the gentle peace of a dove cooing. Eyes full and overflowing, grieving.
4 comments:
Hope you are doing alright, and if not, I wish I could somehow send or give you comfort.
Nice poem nonetheless.
wreckless, I am better, sometimes no matter how much I hate it, the tears must flow. This morning for some reason they would not stop.
It isn't really a poem, just a flow of emotion, but thank you.
It will be OK. You will be OK. Your children will be OK.
In the fullness of time.
Oh honey...I KNEW you weren't OK from our emails last night. And there I was prancing about being happy!!!!
Reaching out and giving you a huge tight BBGR hug...the kind only two women friends know about. Wish I could do it personally.
Like Jonas, I'm here to tell you it will be OK. It will not be painless and is probably the hardest thing you've ever done. But it will be OK. It will.
Dabs at your beautiful eyes. Don't bloodshot green eyes look amazing?
I love you.
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