Grief

Standard

They say you must feel pain,

 to feel joy,

that struggle,

 is necessary to live fully,

that suffering,

allows for gratitude,

and that sorrow,

opens the heart.

 

But, fuck,  does it hurt!

 

I vowed I would not run.

I would not evade.

I would not numb.

 

So here I sit with pain,

the full weight of my humanity,

on me.

 

Only trivial relief comes from cool tears,

gliding down my burning cheeks.

 

My thoughts taunt the dark corners of my mind,

I let them permeate.

Muddled by my refusal to react,

they mix with the background roar of evening traffic,

until I no longer hear nor see them clearly.

 

I get it; I’m flawed.

I am human.

6 responses »

  1. Flawed?…..or growing? evolving? maturing?
    Even re-birthing?
    Drain not the half empty cup,
    But the half full one,
    And let it nourish your maturing.

    Is humanity flawed?
    Or just struggling through its adolescent phase,
    Into a more responsible maturity?
    Is its cup half empty,
    To receive no more?

    Was it all a big mistake?
    A flawed experiment?
    Has beauty drained away,
    And goodness all evaporated?
    Has scope for kindness withered to regenerate no more?

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