I hold a tendril of sanity
with hands unsteady
unsure
worrying the frayed edges
with my thoughts
anxieties
what ifs
and
why nots
and
what if I’m wrongs
The tension of the passers-by
held in the tightness of their faces
Their dread
symptoming into blossoming
dis-ease
PRESSES
against my ribcage
squeezing my heart into
palpitating stillness
My heart shatters
And my spirit cries into the
miasmic howl
searching
calling
beseeching
the Universe
for release
I no longer recognize the tendrils that I have gathered
while trying to weave some coherent tapestry
of
my
Life
And in those moments
grief
spills
out
Sloshing across tenuously crafted knots
Smearing ink across pages
Shrieking through the holes
adding
harmonic counterpoint
to my
heart-rended cry
And all of the threads disperse
away
from
me
I catch my breath
in gulping
guttural
sobs
One strand glimmers and floats towards me
a filament of barely-there hope
I grasp it and
wrap myself
around it
Hoping for reprieve
The grief subsides and sits once more
the sadness dims and steps to the side
And I begin my thread gathering again
unsteady
unsure
determined
I am not in mourning
but sadness dogs my every step
I am not grieving
but grief sits next to me every moment
