fridays / fucksudc / grief / infant loss / patpatforever / poetry / SUDC

The Work

Each morning with the growing light
My eyes constricting  from the sight
I fumble back from dreamless night
A lightning bolt within me strikes
and I know that something is just not right

A reverse process begins within my frame
Every day since the one has started much the same
My thoughts fall through the dilation of my heart
Searing expansion as I take in the dark

Such brutal toil I never wanted
in a wound I don’t want flaunted
But the way to best get through the work
is stand and get it started

Mining for memories, excavating ache
calloused from the awkward, heavy tools that it takes
to carve our connection
from the size of my affection
forging ahead without a clue in which direction

No course, no destination
no X on a map
My treasure was you
something I’ll never get back
Instead your forever is frozen in time
I am ever grateful that it’s held within mine

In memory, in honor, in love I return
to engrave your small fingerprint
make use of the burn
I come to build you a palace
to frame your sweet face
carving out the empty halls with rudimentary phrase

Each verb my device to make strikes in the iceberg
mining for love that resides inside my hurt
I write my heart on my sleeve
’cause I believe in some way
wrapping words when I want arms around you helps undertake
all the suffering, the rage,  the confusion and the hassle,
the heavy, cold dark emptiness of bearing an ice castle

Sometimes it leaves me frozen
all the prose within my heart
a statue from the lack of you
my words echoes, not art

Then in the ice ignites a phoenix
Higgs boson of  love and rage
A progeny of parents to a child who’ll never age
I put my back into the swing of things
though worn from ache and cold
of ever bearing open arms that never get to hold
of fingers always reaching for a touch they’ll never feel
of a heart that’s  always open from a wound that cannot heal

Mud and blood and sweat and tears from all this grueling duty
just to hold the sillage left behind from all your beauty
Agonizing travailance to last a whole life through
I will build a reverie here
I will choose love
because you

For more of my poetry, click here.

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2 thoughts on “The Work

  1. Pingback: Writing & Progress | The Progressive Parent

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