Water helps to set a calming mood, lulls me into nothingness.
I sit and stare out.
My goal today is to survive one more hour without succumbing to waves of grief.
I'm fragile, a paper boat on a bobbing wave.
I can drown any second. Sleeplessness, irritability, anger are my companions.
Today, we will leave and go pick berries until I lose track of who I am, whom I've lost.
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow is far away.
yes~
ReplyDelete(( ))
xo
erin
Hugs.
ReplyDelete(( ))
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing this private time of your life with us.
ReplyDeleteThat's right- only today. Every day- only today. I honor you in your struggle. Send you hugs and esteem from your native land. You carry the strength of your people within you.
ReplyDeleteSo much of you is here on this page that I feel I could reach out and touch you. God bless you Roasaria!
ReplyDeleteOh, Rosaria. My heart breaks for y'all. Thinking of you and praying for y'all often.
ReplyDeleteOne day at a time Rosaria. Peace and comfort be yours, you are not alone. XO
ReplyDeleteYou are not alone ... though I know you must feel isolated, beyond human touch. Please take care, Rosaria.
ReplyDeleteYou speak to me so deeply with this poem. "...pick berries until I lose who I am, whom I've lost."
ReplyDeleteWriting is the only thing that allowed me to get to "tomorrow" for many days. It is where I turned with my grief because I had no where else to turn.
Yes, writing and cooking and gardening and movie watching, and the generous sharing from lovely people who have never met me.
ReplyDeleteBless you all!