a lamentation

eight months later, you still
visit me as I’m visiting you, and
my world has shifted to
peacefulness in other forms.
you were my peace.
you were my comfort.
you were my joy.
although, it is becoming familiar
in the void, I’m still breathless
without you.
I don’t think the same.
I don’t move the same.
the woman I am turning into
wishes she had your knowing
stare in front of her.
but this is grief…
I am covered in love
I carry in my bones for you—you’re
still in every blink of my
eyes and every curl of my
fingers.
I can feel you in the gaps
and pauses of time—you are
everywhere and nowhere
simultaneously… and on most
days, that is a heartbreak I
shovel through until my
arms give way to the pain
sleeping in their veins.
my forever fur baby—you will
never know how centered you
kept me—how grounded I grew
to be in the comfort of
your care.
maybe you felt it as you
were dying.
maybe you smelled it as
you watched me take on
your independence when
it fell from your soul.
maybe you sensed the
slowness of every step I
took around you—cautious of
your weathered bones.
I stand in the midst of
temporary silence, birds sing
a song of which I am lyric-less,
and chickens keep watch over
hours of land where my heart
is buried, and I wonder…
if you’re in heaven, will you
wait for me?
do you even want to?
Musical Selection:
Originally published in Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun on Substack.





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