Saturday, October 19, 2013

Eating Grief

Reticence.  Mendacity.  The stories of my recent life.
If I was to become any more reticent or mendacious,
I would be of no use whatsoever to my late wife.
And she, although no longer with us, is beyond gracious.

No, I must become worthy somehow of her memory.
But how, and further more, what?
She is out there like a beacon shimmering.
And me, I am down here trying my damndest.  Not!

I am making no real effort to move on.
Work is often just inconvenient, not inspiring.
Writing is hard, usually focusing on what was lost, not won.
No matter your attempt to guide it, you just end up perspiring.

Pulling oneself up by one's bootstraps, that is what is needed here.
To reach for the furthest and hardest goal.
Instead, I just reach for the nearest beer.
And continue to lose, in bits and pieces, my very soul.

The candles burn at her shrine to no avail.
Silence greets my every question -
that ship refuses to sail.
I am left sitting there wearing a sad expression.

I am not doing the heavy lifting.
Not taking the necessary steps to heal.
Soon it will be the Season for gifting.
I can't even fix my next meal!

Grief and grieving I am good at.
Living, not so much.
The only good thing is that I am not as fat.
Comes from eating crackers and such.

mindbringer, 18 October 2013