Today I laid on the floor of a Somali grocery store and tried not to pass out.

I fought the demons of my mind and my heart, which were coming out in the physiology of my body.

"This is a new low" I thought, as I tried not to get sick all over the beautiful fabrics on the shelves.

To have and to hold, to bloom and to bear, to cherish and to love.

"You're in shock, you're in shock, you're in shock" I repeated to myself as I stumbled outside.

This is a never-ending nightmare, a hellish dreamscape, a grief unimaginable.

"Have grace with yourself, things are not supposed to be this broken" I whispered into the couch.

To sting and to bleed, to weep and to mourn, to wound and to dishonor.