The Expansion of Grief

 

Linking with the Sunday Muse for Muse # 138  Come join us!

"Every heart has its secret sorrows which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad"  ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I am not built of brick and mortar

nor were you

wide open spaces are always at risk to suffer damage in winter’s frost

so the world’s sorrows always seeped in like a flood

beyond ego’s edifice

beyond flesh and bone

tears became a lingering fog

of the words one can never forget

and your eyes spoke each one like mockingbirds

moving through every cloud

it was a place one could get lost in

so I learned to close my eyes

and I became your distant forest

for you were too high up in the clouds

to ever realize you were so lost

nor see that I was longing to be found.