Duration, expression


Sadness is dangerous because it has no real duration
Or expression for me

It has a silence all its own
In which, nevertheless, words paint themselves
In my mind

Both expressing and eschewing
My grief

I unwittingly compose poems, inside my head,
“salty tears drip to the tongue… I am wrung…”

meanwhile I stifle sobs under the

what’s odd?

This time….

I awake the next day.
The sun shines down.
I am ready, again.

6 thoughts on “Duration, expression

  1. You manage a fine thesis here, Amy, reduced to absolute essentials and all the more poignant for brevity.
    The ending offers the necessary hope.
    Fine work indeed.

    Best to You


  2. Thank you John, I value your description. It does take a flip change, doesn’t it? Brevity is the soul of wit, it is said. Why mess about?

    Thank you again.



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