There is no depth to sorrow, only a free fall into a deep, dark abyss If you are lucky, you find something to grab onto on your way down Faith Your remaining child Friends A partner A substance A job…anything to break the fall into the blackness, something to comfort you besides the grief. Sorrow is deceiving, the blackness can be soft, an anesthetic from the pain A giant Memory Foam to wallow upon until you lose all sense of self and only feel the sorrow, only relate to blackness That’s when we realize the grieving has turned to a way of life, not a way out of the sorrow There are always the memories…that turn dusty from age When called forth however, the tears fall afresh, clearing away the dust where the heartache is genuine all over again. We cling to those memories however, exposing our soul to them Desperately trying to make them sharper around the edges, forcing them to come into focus, if only for a moment. The memories briefly cast out the dark
Bessie and Me - Writing and Riding