Waves of grief

 

"It can’t be" I yell at the sky

in disbelief, questioning why

as I clamp my hands

over your chest

and press and press and press.

Distress turns to panic,

to tired anguish, to frantic

thoughts rushing.

To crushing skies falling.

I’m counting seconds in hour-long pauses.

 

I press.

 

But nothing.

 

Lights flashing, crowded.

Brain crashing to a blue screen.

I can’t function. I can’t breathe.

 

"Take me" I whisper to the sky above,

"Take me, I used up so much luck,

Take me why won’t you listen?

Take me"

but the sky clouds over

leering like a mortician,

as funeral tears make their procession

to the ground at my feet.

 

I scream. I cry. I crack inside.

I build walls just to smash them.

Down. And I slump. "Ground

please swallow me. Absorb me"

I sink into the hungry slurping void,

The grey stagnant stew of memories.

I fill my mind with realms of nothing,

just empty plots to walk amongst.

Tombstone stories I can’t look upon.

Memories of you in frozen song.

 

And I walk, and hear

something from my childhood,

so long gone.

a faintly remembered song.

And I walk, feeling the melody itching,

the harmonies gripping my feet.

And I walk

ankle deep

in a gloomy swamp.

Feet clodded in gloopy memories.

Like tree branches hanging heavy,

every lifted limb feels like gravity

has been turned up to eleven.

 

and I plod on.

And the murk

now reaches my waist.

I feel every emotion

as it pours its way into my skin.

And I taste the tears

I can’t let escape.

I remember.

 

A flood of images,

A smile. A day.

Some light. Some shade, a laugh,

and tides of stories, crashing in waves.

 

And the squalid hole I’m slumped in,

begins to slowly drain,

and whilst my skin

is still stained in memories,

they no longer pull me down.

They remind me of better days,

tattoos of when you were around.

One day

 

One day there will be no shoreline.

One day there will be no trees.

One day there will be no storyline.

There will be no you or me.

One day there will be no fireflies.

One day there will be no bees.

What will be left in a void so empty?

What will be?

 

There will be no rainbows,

as no rain will flow.

There will be no sun,

therefore, no glow.

There will be no one.

No place to go.

So why not hold on to love

whilst it can still grow?

 

One day

there will be no sea.

We won’t see

the disappearing seasons.

We won’t hear the sound ceasing.

We won’t feel the earth stop breathing.

 

One day

there will be no song.

There will be no sound,

no short or long.

There will be no light,

nor any dark.

No day or night

or twilight spark.

 

So, for today

let’s hold tight. Take my hand,

feel the warmth, the blood pulsing

through my veins. Let us inspire.

Love

with the fire

of a burning star.

Enjoy every breath

as if our lungs could collapse.

Take every step as if it’s our last.

 

Dance to every beat of the heart.

Let the desire to survive rise

like a beam of light

pulsing into the skies.

Let the passion to love

ignite beautiful sunrises.

Let’s sway through the irises,

as we look deep into loving eyes.

Sing our songs to every corner of space.

Listen,

the sound of celestial spheres,

sings back to us.

 

As we speak to the moon and stars,

saying just how grateful we are.

Destinations unknown

 

They say your memories play back

when your life is hanging by a thread,

mine dragged me on journeys.

Like a paperback

left open on the first page for all to read.

A quick shift of scene, dropped feet first

into a bus station universe, leading

to all the places I’ve been.

 

Surprisingly, only a handful

of buzzing vehicles, churning the air.

The rumble of their engines

not as deafening as others may hear.

For, in distance alone, or in

actual journeys taken,

the destinations are quite few.

But the stories.

 

Oh, the stories.

 

The stories are here

by the metric tonne.

Every passenger…

Me.

A different part of my story,

bustling through the station,

and the sound rushes me.

A chorus of emotions pushing to be heard.

 

One that walks with hair painted blue,

I smell the aftershave on his skin,

I see the smile in his eyes, but I see through

the laughter inside, through the mask he wears.

Still so young and carefree, he portrays,

but his heart is talking of solitude,

a statue covered in a paper bag,

and I weep at the memory.

Another moment crashes into me,

staggering through on unsteady feet,

escaping by hiding his face in a bottle,

I want to shake him, wake him to see

what will follow.

 

In the corner on the dirty ground

another memory is crying loud,

I want to put my arms around him

and say, “It will be okay, keep believing

in dreams, they do come true.

I’ve seen your dreams, and I’ve met them too.”

 

Another me dances by as if a flowers swaying

with no one there to witness his bloom.

And one that sits pen in hand watching.

Smile in his eyes. Scratching lines.

 

Then there are the destinations of love,

the beauty that has glowed so bright

The soaring flight of a heartbeat's rise.

The memories of eyes that held mine

as we passionately kissed, and the ones

where I blinked and missed. Now, that

bus has left but others sit awaiting a ticket.

 

Buses to other remembered hearts,

blare out reversing alarms, jolting me

back to earth with a crash.

Some of them broke my heart,

others shone a light in the dark,

but each story,

every destination,

every journey led me here.

 

With a world open for me,

if I just step into my destiny.

 

So, I jump on board any bus I can find,

for each journey is a unique part of my life

and I am here for the ride.