The Same Searing Scorch As Yesterday

That sound of silence
       is only tintinitus
            coursing through
                 this brainspace.

Not to worry, no big deal
          at all or ever. Just as is
                   piece of a part of the
                        pack'age to live wit.

               (however)

A year of grief, great grief,
             disemboweling whatever could
                      be the core of 'being'may be,
                           Viscera scattered along the tidy,
                  green  lawn of ordinary
               Life, which is as
      much alike to ordinary
death than we'd think to imagine (or consider)
 (from what eye can tell wit me
   hollow gut, hollow soul, hollowed mind, hollow hole.

A year of grief, great grief, child,
       since death had to do it's work
              on you, 'my flesh and blood'.

~The dam(n) of tears spills over every day, every day.~
                  ~ "it" patiently waits ~

No peace without complete, unconditional, acceptance.
          That peace seeming all but impossible today, tomorrow,
                  for the duration.

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