Closure
Is an illusion
Science shows us
Life is constantly
In flux

Cant keep waiting
On a certain moment, event,
Or epiphany
To button up our suffering
In a neat little package

We've hung on to this hope of
AFTER
Only "AFTER" is when I'll be healed
Enduring days won't be devastating
And suddenly I'll be this beacon
Of strength, I'll be able to endure anything

In truth,
Grief's a heartache
That never really goes away
The brain starts to play
With what's "fact"and whats "fake"

If this is the way
Then where am I going?

I guess I should thank you
For the solitude
I definitely do
Deserve some me time

Tell me, which is harder.
Waiting for something you know will never be in your cards,
or having to come with the terms that it will never happen.

Maiden in the ashes
Robed in silk
Robbed of milk
No mark on your tender skin
No sign of turmoil within
The coal does not yet scorch your soul
...
You walk your delicate path
Bearing the sightly, brightly beaten cut bloom of spring
Luscious petals not yet knowing
They will drop from the stem
No seeds to plant, and not her fault
the only water here tainted with salt
And the ground is hard, turned up in its roots
Do you know the path you tread does not want you?
Do you not yet feel the cut of stone or burn on coal?
Or does this black earth need your bloodstained steps as much as you need to bleed them
Is it possible for one woman's blood to nourish this dead soil back to life?
And one woman's love to seed them

Don't mourn for the dead,

grieve only for the living --


Do it for yourself.