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.

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Minus three hours, yesterday was a horizontal day.

It was a day of closed blinds and dvd’s. The entire day, not to speak or pretend. The entire day as me, as my friend.  Unfortunatly everything is still the same. All the rooms are in the air. No decisions have been made. How do I decide what I will keep with me? Moving to a room. I feel like every path gets smaller. Every room narrower or taller. With every phase I must readjust. Bones break so they may fit through. They need time to heal, but time is not their travel companion. The creeks and snaps in the dark nights. The  pain that remains there in the mornings. In the past spirits were tried but they only magnified the darkness. They leave behind a greater ache so they no longer accompany the traveler.  Eventually only one will fit through. What then will I do. Perhaps it’s a form of regeneration. When molecules approach they merge and recreate, but when some dissipate,  disintegrate like a nuclear fission, [ The nuclear reaction in which a massive nucleus splits into smaller nuclei with the simultaneous release of energy ]. This is what happens when love is created. Life is lived in that explosion. But when one life expires or half of the energy dissipates what happens then?

Does not the remaining energy dissipate as well, traveling through the dark space of time till it too burns out.

There must surly come a time for all to burn out. Why must we be pushed and guilt loaded into recreating another energy. Surly one in a lifetime is enough. This society that will only accept happiness as normal exhausts me.

From february 19 2009 to october 2 2012, I have been made to watch my lover become ethereal or celestial. This was transforming, actually it mutated me. Into what I have no idea, yet. I do know that the intensity I feel should not and can not be masked or put away because some don’t like how it looks or how it makes them feel. I understand and accept all peoples choice, and if that is, to not watch me go through this then I understand and hold no ill feelings.  It used to be held in high honour to grieve. Now we have to hide it when we go out doors. Myself well here I am putting it out there but still behind the mask of another name. Just in case I offend someone.

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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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