This grief is a beast of its own
It's a soft, sick, sort of dreading feeling
It's sweet melancholy won't let up
Bland, empty, desolate and yearning
For the happiness of yesterday
This sick inner winter is hopeless
The fools of the past are hauntingly silent
Just echoes of lost dreams
And inner screams, pointing fingers
This huge wound isn't healing, it weeps
It seeps poison that infects everything
With any joy comes intense sorrow
Not really sure how to live without it
To forget time. To forgive life. To be at peace.
Proud Army Mom
I thought I would lay down and die after losing my Son to suicide.
Instead I chose to fight the monster that killed him.
Hold On, Pain Ends
So so true.
And something that comes to light when that beast has been named, described, wrestled with (for me).
it is good to have this place to come back to.
thank you for sharing your poem.
Tootle, my very best wishes for some ballast to see you right, through and beyond this Saturday.
If nothing else, give refuge to those in need.