grief

it’s isolation.
a god-forsaken from of isolation.
it doesn’t just surround her.
it becomes her.
takes her down.
under.
below.
buried.
brings her to a loneliness so vast
she begins to tremble.
unable to make it stop,
the internal shaking becomes part of her rhythm,
blocking out the sound of her heart.
not sure if she’s still alive,
or is part of some walking dead clan,
she keeps a facade in place.
(for them)
her mouth moves and says the required words.
(for them)
her lips turn upward when a smile is demanded.
(for them)
her throat closes back the throbbing
and the wailing.
(for them)
shuts those noises out from the world –
and keeps them echoing off her ribs.
ceaselessly vibrating
thru her emptiness.
she wonders how she will ever
find life again.
no one can really tell her how.
because no one really understands.
but she will.
somehow she will.
and it is in there,
in the coming back
thru hell – out of hell –
from underneath hell –
and in the finding of life again
and in living again –
it is there that some form of
miracle lies.

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