Wednesday, February 29


I've been doing pretty good since Z's memorial service.  The loss still hurts, but I'm starting to recover and remember the happy memories, not dwell on the despair of him not being here anymore.  Last night, however, I had a relapse.  I'm finally reading Lone Survivor by Marcus Luttrell, and as I read how Marcus' teammates died in the mountain wilderness of Afghanistan, all of the pain and sorrow came rushing back.  It was as if I was reliving that Sunday morning all over again.  But the great thing about nighttime is that the morning is just a few short hours away.

I wrote this poem a few weeks after Z passed away, probably at the height of the hurt.  My students were writing original poems in class, and they challenged me to do the same...


I stagger under the weight of what you left behind
I stumble, start to crumble, too weak, too tired to stand again
When stone becomes glass the cracks are inescapable

You asked me to hold your burden, then left me with no relief
So I continue to carry your confessions, your stories, your secret fears
I soldier on, on my knees

I close my eyes and tighten my grip, wishing
To grasp, to cling, to hold more than my anger, my grief
Afraid to see a tomorrow, a future without you there

The hole in my heart grows with the fading light
The weight of the emptiness leaves me breathless, broken
Bound to bury me in the misery of missing

You left me with a heavy heart, weighed down with what you left behind
A heart weighed down with what was, what might have been
A heart weighed down with memories, reminders
A heart weighed down with words unspoken
A heart weighed down with questions
A heart weighed down with love

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