Grief - A Prose Poem Read Count : 122

Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Grief, silent, an idle hum in the distance. In the car before, I felt my lungs almost collapse under the pressure, and it was quiet, like 3 AM suburbs. No one turns their heads for crickets. I don't know what it is but its weight makes no sound. I can move through it, like a dense fog rolling down the empty streets, the kind that comes with a certain dread of the things we cannot see, one never spoken, in case we are correct.


The crisp air fills our lungs as we quicken our pace and try to pretend that the things we feel in the dark aren't actually there, nipping at our heels. Hurry, we do, but we never run, because running is an acknowledgment we must never give it. Hurry, but never run. Flinch but never cry, never speak. Push it out of your mind whenever possible until you do not recognize it when it comes back. Until it is only an abstraction, only identifyable by the feeling it leaves in your gut. Until you could not talk about it, even if you wanted to.

Comments

  • great story

    Nov 30, 2018

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