Searching for a Miracle …
It feels like a cold rain pounding at my heart
these hours before dawn. The grief is
fierce as it raises and consumes my spirit,
assaulting my senses. Memories emerge from
the darkness, becoming one with my soul.
In the depths of my wounded courage, I am
listing in a sea of sorrow, my life filled with
more grief than many can bear.
It is the hard cold times before departing
this misery. I search for a miracle; hope
merges with despair; my destiny is to
leave all I have ever loved. There are times
when I am uncertain and afraid. Hope
has expired. Sometimes waves of anger
and fear hang above me, like a cloud
circulating over the earth.
Many times, I speak of death. Although
much is written about grief, soft words
are meant to calm the grieving heart.
Some will say how lovely words are,
and I doubt this is true. Yet, I sometimes
hear the elderly; talk of death until they
see their own grave beyond the horizon.
Grief is not calm and lovely; the words
do not stop the pain. Words penetrate the
brain, shattering the heart. Most are choked
with emotions under the flesh where the
heart is sheltered by outward suffering;
they close their eyes, hoping to find peace
The grief therapist in my group believes
the words that enter the ears will have
comforted the unhappiness. Grief has no
place to hide! We all grieve in our own
time, short, long, or forever; we just stop
talking about it. I mourn my daughter,
parents, and only sibling, friends. I miss
them all. I wait, soon, very soon!
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