time relentless passing

the fingers must relax

their grip held for so long

bent in that shape

tension held meant not to crush

rather to embrace

not willing to relinquish

to forgotten pockets

the precious

hard won




the revelation

vivid clarity

when it occurs

when;  understood alas,

the marching days relentless passing

contain memories that do not include

the one  held so tightly

new memories  stacking up

in the space where they are not


the energy it takes to hold on

has no fuel to fire the process

the stored reserves depleted

by the erosion of fear

by blinding tears

stark reality


bindings slip

to  flash






no enemy

it is awake

the nightmare comes

the day without  voice

the moments without loving touch

bent by the forces of erosive time

the teeth in the mouth of gears have not changed

yet the ticking so painfully loud

mocks a beating heart


About pathfinder

Artist, Writer, Walking wounded.
This entry was posted in Coping with the Death of a Child, Death, Family, Friends and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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