grief
makes itself a home in my body
coating the back of my throat
seeping down past my lungs
to fill not my heart but my ribcage
with weighted sorrow
a drenched wool blanket woven of anguish
clutching at my sternum
obstinately unyielding
constricting each breath
how can there not be more words than sorrow
for this thing that invades
refusing to be released in tears or sobs
or through my gut
not giving way to lament
but cowering
dulling thought and will
corrupting energy to consume me from
within
hollowing out a space
simultaneously filling with dread and
emptying into an abyss
grief that I cannot carry
nor discard
nor transform
but only mourn its presence
be its companion
honor it even as
I hope for hope
to expunge it
from my being
Image by Nuno Lopes from Pixabay
