A tree dropped a leaf, for my grief
To remind me life’s in charge.
Our paroxysms are dead things
That hold us like rigor mortis
Then let us go for a time,
So we can feel …
The depths of exhaustion
And the joy of pain ceasing.
What has no words, no way
Of comprehending, it is only
What the heart struggles to bear,
The zero point of loss
Which is, of course, its exact opposite,
Everything that you had … together
With the oneness excised
At least temporarily
Until the play is over
And catharsis falls
Like a pall
Over the stage.
Every ripple echoes something
To be remembered
And not moved forward.
It is the stillness feeling needs
To resolve, on its own, sweet time
What was only there
In our mind, anyway,
Much less gone.
Shhh,
The heart corrects. Sometimes
The most universal force
Feels the most alone.
