Something died.
I felt its life snuffed out just now.
It tore away living flesh with its exit.
I feel the searing pain,
the warm trickle of blood,
from a new wound.
If I screamed into space,
for how horrible it felt,
it would echo through all the galaxies,
and chill the heat of the sun.
A wave of bitterness, comes back to me,
with the outflow of life passing on.
I put my sand bags of faith against it,
and wonder if they will hold.
Note: This is an old poem that I stumbled on and thought it might speak to someone. If it’s you, I’m sorry for this painful time you’re in. Difficult days come. Good days come. Difficult days sometimes come anew. But even this pain is part of your tapestry, your whole self, your story, a story of life. May the good days, outweigh the difficult.
Clare Graith
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