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Time of Death - Grief Cannot Be Named

Author/illustrator of Whispers of the Goddess & The Quit Smoking Express. Graduate of the Long Ridge Writing Group & Institute for Writers


The black embryo drifts on a calm tide

a tiny vessel holding all the life it was meant to hold

stuck now, in the crux of a throat that has captured

thousands of tears and has endured




of the drowning in not just sorrow


sorrow is too shallow

pain is too bland

depression is too kind

devastation is too cliche


Just No

No words, only pure rivets of feeling

bending and twisting everything that was once real

a ricochet of remembrances that keeps echoing

in silent circles


Moving slowly

Dastardly hands of the clock

that stops for No One

only in paintings

and photographs

Catching the split seconds

of effervescent mortality

that, too, quickly fades from

papers and pages

That, too, so slowly

wipes us all away

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