Saturday, February 14, 2015

By the side of myself

I sit, by the side of myself,
listening to the slow breathe
of grief in my body, watching
the pain, like some wounded

animal, curled into itself,
waiting to heal or to die,
counting the beats of heart,
remembering now and again,

to feel the sense of flesh,
sense the feel of being,
hold to the hope of new life,
held to the life of new hope,

knowing only that there is
no more than the moment,
and the quiet, still place of
loss, where, in the crept and

hidden corners, sleeps, the
truth of what once was,
dormant, silent, unknown;
and yet impossibly real.