Passage of Time by Vicki Stent
Why does it seem so long ago that you were there to hug.
Why does it seem just yesterday that you were there to share.
Why does February feel like November – why does the year seem like the next.
The hills in my head were small until today when they became mountains to climb.
Downward I spiral with no outward right but inward a struggle. I miss you –
nothing specific at all just emptiness without color.
Nor a reason in mind just a big open space that feels like a scar inside that can’t mend.
I imagine a loss greater than this and know that my own can’t compete
But that in itself is what we all share – it’s not size, it’s not importance, it’s not greater or less.
Grief doesn’t distinguish or identify or value. Like love with no boundaries – no logic, no sense.
The heart cannot help to connect us inside to nothing that we are able to define.
We are powerless to all of the greatest gifts we possess – inside of ourselves –
invisible webs to each other.
You – the greatest of all my mothers.
February 6, 2019
What is pain? by Amber Bowen
Can it be washed away in the rain? Is it borrowed in times of sorrow?
Will it be gone tomorrow?
Is yours different?
Or the same?
Like the names
We use to label
The cards on the table
Are we able?
What is pain?
Like the rain can we use it to grow? Or does it remain?
Casting shadows and falling dominoes
Mechanical effects on collective conscious
A chain reaction leaving fractions
What is pain?
Is it taken to the grave?
Can we not be saved?