somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
--e.e. cummings
i couldn't understand my mood
these past couple of days
then i remembered that it was
father's day on sunday
and all of the heaviness
started to make sense
grief is tiring because
it is heavy
and mourning is like a movie screen
that plays memories
in no particular order
so you sit with your grief in the darkness
of this theater
watching the glow of the past in
illuminated gestures
breathing slowly and just wishing for
that time back.
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