Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Grief: after the death of Love

Like the broken chips settled to the bottom of the bag
a remnant of something
    that was once valued
they're no longer worth reaching for

Like the ground underfoot
Terra Firma, constantly reliable
   the foundation of everything
until the earthquake
rips away what once felt solid
    leaving no point of reliable reference

Like diving into the deep end
    to pick up pennies tossed there
how many can you get?
    one, two, three, four ... probably one more
but your breath's suddenly gone
    and you're still twelve feet down
frantic, clawing the water
    there's not enough traction to move quickly up
  you're where you don't belong
    and you have to escape
the panic hangs on even 
    when you're back on solid ground

Like an infant wailing for mom
    who's only just gone to the grocery store
    a ten minute trip for mom
but an infant's eternity, anticipating
    an isolation that may never end

1 comment:

  1. This is heart-wrenching. I very rarely get teary-eyed at poems, but you got me on this one. Wow.