I don't know how you feel.
I have no words that will fix everything
but I can tell you how I feel.
Grief is a hole ripped out of your heart
and if you place your eye to the hole
you see yourself
staked to the center of an empty universe.
When life becomes normal it is still a minefield
of innocent words,
that trigger an ambush from your emotions.
They pull off scabs and leave wounds
raw, open, bleeding like brand new.
Which emotions? Good or bad?
I can't tell. I'm too busy
trying to wipe my nose unnoticed.
I used to think of Hope as a bright flame
that warms your soul and drives away the shadows.
Sometimes that is true,
but even when not, hope is a bulldog's teeth
that cling to Truth and do not let go.
In each ambush I feel storms rage
and I know I could be crushed,
torn apart by their fury,
but my teeth are still set
and I cannot be blown away.