I lie here willing the healing
from overwhelming grief
while staring at the ceiling.
The days are stealing
any semblance of reprieve
instead of healing.
It's better unfeeling
than sorrow unweaving
while staring at the ceiling.
The years have me reeling
for the damage has not been brief.
I anticipate the healing.
Apathy deadly appealing,
nothingness deceiving,
while staring at the ceiling.
Now the bells are pealing
with the full force of grieving.
So commences the healing
looking away from the ceiling.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2020-2022)
PoesíaPoetry of varying subjects and construction, the second of three. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. Accolades: #1 Thought Provoking 2/26/2020 #1 Self-Reflection 3/22/2020 #1 Creative Writing 7/24/2020 #3...
