It doesn’t come packaged in bundles of big and small.
It comes clattering down the pipes of my being,
shredding every solid emotion that I have
into a gazillion
This is grief.
The movement through the stages is stark,
outlined in gashes of red, black and white.
I can feel it in my bones:
that dull ache that comes with crying,
that moment of pause when the tears have dried on my cheek,
mixing with the wrinkled fabric of pain that is my skin.
My head is weighed down
by the sound of a thousand tiny hammers
chipping their way across the plateau of despair
stopping only briefly
to pick up reflective shards of fragile memories.
A part of my being freezes
in utter desolation
at this loss;
a loss for which no words are enough.
For how do I capture
the tragedy of eternity
in the limited space of a few key strokes?
Dedicated to the memory of my dear friend, Praneetha.
Rest in peace, dear soul. You are gone too soon from our lives.