Loss

Dull and Hard

Loss is a hammer, a pounding in the skull.
Lack of breath and a preoccupation, sick and dull.

Loss is the heavy when you need the tender, Loss is a dark road

Without signs, lights, pavement, direction.

Loss never ends, recoils, rebounds, Loss is not a straight line

You feel it arrive, fear its impact,

None can predict how hard it will hit, what bones it will break.

Loss is a wave that crests and recedes, Loss is a release and a relapse,

A gradual loosening of your grip.

Loss never ends.

Loss is a mirror and a photographic memory.

Loss is a long historical record, events suppressed now revealed, emotions hidden now surfaced.

Loss is love backward, the gradual detachment and disentangling.

Loss releases then tightens, each time slightly weaker.

Imperceptibly and gradually hope grows where Loss plowed under.

Loss is a choice, grow or die. Loss is a disembodied astral moment, life at a crossroads.

One chapter closes, the next aggressively opens.

If your lucky, everything changes. You never know where you'll end up.

Despite your best efforts and despite your delusions, the works keeps turning our of your control.

It crushes into the first time you call yourself the ex husband,

And you realize anew that your entire life has been set askew.

Loss becomes who you are, construes you through your past,

Loss shows you how to feel again, knocks the cobwebs off your heart.

The courage to feel, the strength that defines you, reminds you that there are reservoirs of love deeper than pain

If loss does not submerge you there is a key back into your heart. It will take time.