Grief forced its way in, and now I will not let Grief leave.
Grief is weightless while being a heavy burden.
Grief is etherial, intangible, and unbearable.
I will not let Grief leave.
I have trapped it.
It screams and swirls for release and I allow enough of it to slip through before I retract it and damn it again to its solitary existence.
Grief will not hear the therapists, the spiritualists, or the astronomists. Grief mocks them all with impunity.
And I laugh with Grief.
Grief has become my friend. My resting place.
When I need my mom, it is Grief who answers and envelops me in memories that nurture my love and torture my heart.
And I beckon Grief to share its most terrible expressions with me and yet it is not enough.
Grief is inadequate. Grief fails its only task.
So I sentence Grief again.
To be punished.
To be my friend.
To never leave.
© 2020 by Myron J. Clifton. All Rights Reserved.
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