stuck.

A ghost of someone’s tragedy

How recklessly my time has been spent…

 

 

This life is short, they say

Make every day count, they say…

Live in the moment, they say.

 

How then

Can I allow this grief to consume me

This inexplicable sadness

to stop me in my tracks

and render me inert?

 

My end

Could possibly be

as unglamorous

as a fat wet toad

Being run over by a reckless car

 

Or slipping away

Unceremoniously

After weeks of chemotherapy

 

The smell of disinfectant and despair

Hanging thick and knowing

In the atmosphere

rife with cool, clinical detachment

 

Alone

Lonely

Always alone

 

How then,

Does the human body continue to function

When engulfed with seemingly endless sadness, grief and pain?