Heather Carnaghan
Grief is thick and heavy. It is tree sap, stubbornly stuck to my hands no matter how hard I scrub or what chemicals I employ. It sticks to the fibers of the rest of my life and ruins each with its sticky blackness. Perhaps if I face it head on, tap it, boil away the teary wetness, some sugaring will take place and I will find purpose in my child’s death and live again like in the beautiful before.
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Heather Carnaghan
"Without you" is a quicksand, deep and unforgiving. The more I struggle against its slurping grasp, the more mercilessly it pulls me downward. I will never step out of it, but when I stop resisting I float to the surface of my grief where I can still feel the sun on my face. Heather Carnaghan
The blinding, slashing rain of this wretched storm will pass and in its wake new growth will rise up from seeds I never knew I planted. Heather Carnaghan
Forward, mechanically we march, battered but vaguely certain of a thicket ahead with less thorns. Heather Carnaghan
being strong feels weak when there is no other choice but to live, without Heather Carnaghan
the humble jack pine whose seeds are born in wildfire this phoenix of trees by Heather Carnaghan
There will always be a “before you” and an “after you”. You are the end of who I was and the origin of my augmented soul. |
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August 2018
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