Late-blooming azalea.

Today’s prompt is to write a tragedy poem. I’m not sure I am up to writing something that feels so real for me at the moment.

by Beth Weaver-Kreider

The sun still rose the next day
though you couldn’t see it for the rain
or for the veil of gauze that shock had raised
between you and the world.

The birds still sang, but your ears
were ringing, your hearing dimmed
by the hum of loss that roared
all around you wherever you went.

You might have felt the gentle autumn breeze
except that your bones were chilled to the marrow
and you shivered even in your coat and scarf.

Nothing seemed to pierce the numbness
that encased you like a layer of ice,
nothing warmed you,
nothing broke through,
until you began to feel the rhythm
rising upward through the soles of your feet,
the voices singing all around you,
chanting your name, calling you Beloved.

Gratitude List:
1. All my beloveds
2. The sheer beauty of an orange cat walking through fall leaves
3. Autumn in Ducktown Woods
4. Commiseration
5. The work of the heart, which is not all joy and love, but also grief and rage

May we walk in Beauty!

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