Grief, Uninvited.

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 stay.

To be punished.

To be my friend.

To never leave.

© 2020 by Myron J. Clifton. All Rights Reserved.

Good Riddance, Get Out, and Get Bent

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