me news of the demolished
always
we craved.
When the speechless hinge
of loss
sings to my invisible
heart,
I surrender and become
its tender plaything.
At home in the story
you left me, I
hide inside the noise
of silence
and slowly start to
hear the praise
breathing in its
ancient room.
©Laura Sorrells 2012
all rights reserved
Posts
What a meaningful inscription this would be within a card to someone who is grieving.
ReplyDeleteI hope it isn't you at this moment.
well, it is, but I'd rather feel the grief (which I keep thinking I'm all done with) than let it make me crazy by not allowing myself to grieve this lost relationship. I'm all right. I'm glad you liked this.
ReplyDeleteWhat a deep, beautiful yet tragic, poem. Thanks for sharing and may those ancient rooms continue to breath healing praise into your soul.
ReplyDeleteThank you. They do, all the time, sage.
ReplyDeleteis this completely perverse - i imagine it as my own poem for a future. one looks forward in many surprising ways)))
ReplyDeleteyou write grief beautifully. i dare say you live it beautifully, as well. it does not lessen the pain to accept it but i think perhaps it widens the growth)))
xo
erin
thank you, erin. I am at least trying to live it consciously. the grief I feel includes, I think, grief for my mom, who died several years ago, not just this three-year relationship with my boyfriend, who was also a dear old friend.
ReplyDeleteno, it isn't perverse at all. I read a poem tonight that felt like a foregrounding of sorts for me somehow. a shivery thing.
I am so glad you read my blog. thanks again. peace, laura
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ReplyDelete