Bereaved Anguish

What is it to paint colours

When your world is breaking

When all you want to do is

Curl up in a ball

But you have so much to get OUT!

You pick up your brush and paint tears in the sky

Sprinkling the gravel of your grief at the bottom

The raspiness of your voice speaks into the empty void

I hear the birds singing their bright song in the tree outside

How could they? But also, how could they possibly know the loss in this room?

The thick lethargic heaviness that threatens to smother me

I try again to paint but all I see on the canvas is lead, just like my every breathe

And sharp stones in a desolate land

There is no life - how can there be when all I see is death?

An ugly endless repose of peace when there should be energy, vitality, an essence of life

They say time heals but all I see are endless thorns in my days ahead

My only hope - if hope exists

Is that I’ll join in that sweet sleep one day

And until then I NEED to find joy in the darkness.

Maybe that is the key to this thing they call time.