Wednesday, March 11, 2020

8th Anniversary of Rob's Suicidal Death

Gentle yet incessant breezes
and saltiness of spitting tears
railroad my thoughts,
my feelings,
my sense of being
to a place
of emotional saturation
that few
have the Grace
to stand
in a truth poured out,
not often caught

Deep desires of
one's own humanity
to be known
and desperately
understood
yet all the while
misnomers sweep away
silent hope
as time ebbs and flows
like watercolors
swooshed on paper
far too wet
left in its wake
the faintest hint
of color
to the pain of a life
breathed and forsaken
taking the gift
of what might have been
to a place
of this unrequited
scourging question,
WHY?


© copyright Kimberly Anne Wallace, March 11, 2020