As I open my eyes the morning scurries about
gaining purchase in all of my senses
from the blatant light spilling through the window,
and the chill clinging to the edges of the night before
And I’ve already been thinking a lot
about holes, the empirical shape of loss,
and how they relate to grief
In the realm of my sorrow these shapes
aren’t ruled by the laws of physics.
Sometimes the holes visit me as colors,
often red and angry at the thievery
The worst color is grey, the most forlorn of colors
because I can’t see hope beyond the slate-colored chasm
Sometimes the holes come to me in my dreams
as desperate, chimeric shapes smashing into my nights!
Grief never stops filling your absence with voids.
It’s inevitable, I’ve learned. But when time and I allow a forgiveness of the pain
the holes become smaller, but they do not go away - far from that!
Their colors transform too, becoming less brilliant
across the wounded hues of crimson, ash and blue
-
Author:
Michael Anthony (
Offline) - Published: September 6th, 2021 17:55
- Comment from author about the poem: A rumination on my journey through grief - hope you like it.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 35
- Users favorite of this poem: Eugene S., rebmasters, L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments4
I am so aware of this in my life since my wife parted from this earth.
Andy
Sorry for your loss Andy. Grief is a meandering journey with no end, so always good to know we are not alone.
Best
Mike
The association of grey with grief is so real and brilliant!
Thanks for stopping by Arvy! Glad you liked this one - appreciate it!
Cheers
Mike
'And I’ve already
been thinking a lot about holes,
the empirical shape of loss'
some succinctly worded insightful observations,
I'm sorry for your loss, thanks for sharing
Humbled, and thank you L.B.
Cheers
Mike
This gave me chills!! i love it!!
Thanks Jay-Lee! Appreciate the visit and your time!
Cheers
Mike
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