Wish I could
name feelings
tonight--
Happiness,
perhaps
somewhere
far beneath
all this rage,
the anger,
necessary
to a point,
but for
how long
and wide
a path
before
I'm out
of this
field of
nightmares,
playing out
in daylight?
When will
the mourning
reach morning,
the end-product,
a healing potion,
to salve all wounds,
or is this merely,
the practice round
before I'm through?
Grief is like an obstacle course, and I already feel like I've run a practice round in under, around and through this same block! ---A
Most here probably share that same rope. I've climbed it many times before only to reach the top and have someone tell me to do it over again. Keep praying that one day our goals will not be in vain. Very emotional write.
The deep-dive literary meditations presented as stories, poems, and essays in The American Poet Who Went Home Again, A Mosaic of My Soul at Work, have captivated and inspired readers ever since its first paperback publication in 2008.
Married ten years, and more in love than ever, Robert and Marcie have everything to live for. But a terrible secret is breaking Robert's heart: he knows that Marcie is about to die...
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Most here probably share that same rope. I've climbed it many times before only to reach the top and have someone tell me to do it over again. Keep praying that one day our goals will not be in vain. Very emotional write.