There was a time
when no matter
how much rain
fell through my spirit
I wouldn’t drown.
Today is tears
in a field of dreams
I cannot harvest.
Blinded by why
I feel as a corpse
too dry to even
be a feast for worms.
I take a deep breath
hoping to fill my lungs
with color, only to
choke on the scent
of gray.
©Susie Clevenger 2023
This poem is as gray as grief, and I hear you, Susie. The lines "Today is tears in a field of dreams I cannot harvest" express grief so well.
ReplyDelete