Widowed Without A Manual

Some of us grieve longer then others. I will not be rushed out of my love, that still inhabits my heart.

All Remains Grey

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I keep telling myself that one more day and then I will be fine and able to pull things together. Yet here I am lying in bed from 5am. Every room is a shambles. All in mid flight of packing. Old friends call and leave messages but I can’t muster the energy. It would mean me being outside myself, the self that possesses my body.

nights that stir                          

minds a blur                                

do we waits                              

for  pearly gates

what if at that instant         

we cannot see in distance                     

and all remains grey      

what if in that instant

 

Photo on 2014-04-26 at 15.27 #5There are many that say get up, get out, get moving. but there is such weight that expands on our chest. Such weight also rests on our eyes. So why can’t we just be let to rest. To just roll over is the best.

There are no days off in this state. Everyday we work at getting past. The big ‘they’ tell us it will not last. Soon it will be past.  The emptiness so vast will it really be in the past.

 

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Author: ilovecloudstoo

I live in Canada though​ I was not born here. Newfoundland is where my heart breathes. Primarily I am a visual artist, welded and or cast bronze sculptures. Sylvia Plath may have been the seed planted in me that is creating poetry. Since then I have read so many great modern poets work. Art is my sustaining business poetry sustains my soul.

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