Grief (Page 4)

The picturesque autumn view of a beautiful golden sunrise. A dense fog covers a mountain valley with gold-colored trees lining the foreground.

everything is here
for but a moment

like a whisper
half-spoken
nearly existing

vanishing
in the soft light
of a new day

[continue]. . .

A young black woman sits on a gray sofa in a modern living room. She appears peaceful and stress-free while relaxing at home.

The definition of living a meaningful life
will differ for each person.

To some it may be to strive
for a form of greatness.
To others it may be
to make it through each day.

(405 words)

[continue]. . .

A lonely woman sits on a swing in the park villa in the morning. She is reaching over to hold an empty swing beside her.

I wish I had spoken
one simple, kind word.
It may well have been
the only one heard.

Now it’s much too late.
Life goes on without.
Memories will fade
but regrets they do not.

[continue]. . .

A close-up of a dust-covered, dirty computer keyboard.

My mom used to write letters at the end of each year, to keep friends and family up to date on the happenings in our family.

I hadn’t written any poetry in a while. So, in the middle of the night, I wrote a little update letter of my own.

[continue]. . .

A whitetail deer doe is walking through the water, across a small pond.

The clarity I seek is regarding how to remain calm
amidst the storms swirling round about me,
how to be of help and live compassionately
towards those in most dire need,
those who may not appreciate or understand
the choices I make each day.

(1,108 words)

[continue]. . .

Library reading room. Empty wooden swivel chair at wooden library table with book open on the table. Glasses on top of book. Wooden bookcases with blurred bindings of colorful books behind table and chair. A steak knife lies on the floor nearby.

TW: Suicide

I feel my chest heave as I walk through the kitchen.
Heavy breath, warm and wet.
My pace deliberate, pronounced.

Cold steel grazes my neck, awakening memories.

[continue]. . .