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Tuesday, 15 May 2012

My Grief

By Michael Gorodezky who blogs at Thin Ice of a New Day

Perhaps the wound is not a metaphor?

The wound is forever.

It is alive.

It grows and shrinks.

Sometimes others can see it.

Mostly I keep it hidden.

It comforts me.

I can keep it forever

The wound is not infected..

It hurts less today than when ...

It will never go away.

I want it.

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. PLEASE read instructions for submitting.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


These words from the heart have touched me deeply.

I am printing this out to keep. Thank you.

Love your poem and your blog.

I echo Claire Jean, definitely food for thought.
Surprise! Perhaps I want my grief too, as it visits me without me doing anything.
It hangs around long past its welcome? I was just thinking today of wadding it up in a ball and cutting it into little pieces. But that did not make it go away.

Wonderful poem. Grief has a way of popping up even many years later and maybe that is because we want it to, rather than loose that very sad feeling.

I think loss and grief and the processing of the feelings are very important. Thank you Michael for so eloquently pointing that out to us.

Dear Michael,

I am so sorry for your loss.

Your poem was touching and I
hope that you find great comfort in the very near future.

Dear Michael - how telling your words "it comforts me - I want it" - it is so true sometimes the grief itself is a comfort - we fear to lose it - and therefore lose everything - but we don't lose our love or memories of that love.
Beautiful poem.

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