Beyond the Death Month

And we pass the death.

Another mark,

Bleeding hands,

Regret.

To write, it is broken;

There is no schedule,

Of when my voice speaks,

Of when my throat closes,

Of when I write but no words come.

Uselessness,

When I am not scraping perfection in words.

Anti-social, introvert, I write:

my only option for peace of mind.

I twist, I fall, I falter.

I am broken.

That's okay -

I am whole, also.

I've gathered myself up,

I am smiling.

Seven months dead,

The bitter thoughts,

Sinking beneath the ice.

That's okay -

I was brought up,

The exact same people who put me there saved me,

Life raft,

Family.

Day two,

Alternative thoughts,

Memorial,

An urn -

Ashes, as she wished.

Opposite, failure, question marked.

One day.

It's not today.

Abstract in the best understanding;

This is emotion.

Eloquent thoughts,

Older than you think,

Younger than you believe:

Strength in numbers,

Like the redwoods,

I am not complete and utter isolation.

Keep busy, now.

You've passed this day.

Death month and death memorial and death faults.

Death thoughts.

Words are hard.

Close your eyes;

Believe.

Good-bye is not forever -

And I'll be seeing you on the other side.

Day three.

Taste the rain.