I never seem to fully recover from the long illness and death of my husband.
Grief’s appetite (a phrase captured from the poet Annah Sobelman)
He possessed my youth.
He held title to my beauty.
He had the keys to my womb.
“The hardest part of change, Claire, is resistance to change”.
I knew that your hold on life was fragile|
a thin thread kept you in your body
your heart pounded and ached.
“Your death has robbed me of sweet deep sleep.”
I cannot escape the sharp edge of grief
I cannot rest since you have gone.
You were my sure place.
“I am haunted by old patterns, tainted moods and the odd curse.”
He has walked across and cannot return.
He may look back, but cannot retake all that was
I am in uncharted waters, navigating alone.
“No one but you can know what you want or why you want.
Claire, let your heart guide you.”
