Grief

There are moments when I can scarcely breath. My heart pounds out an attack, then retreats, leaving me cold and ruined. I force breath deep into my lungs, probing for proof of life, then the air leaves me in utter anguish.

Oh the tears - how they strive to drown me in my sorrow. My grief wraps around my neck and strangles my hope. For that is what I mourn for, my hope. It was snatched from my bosom in one sure and callus blow. I wander aimlessly through the forests of desperation, calling to the one for guidance.

No answers come to me now. I stumble and fall. Then I drag myself to my feet, only to stumble and fall again. My skin bleeds, my muscles cramp, but they are no match for the desperate ache I suffer.

All that is left is the echo of emptiness, an absolute loneliness that feels so familiar. I bid my heart to resume beating. I beg for solace from the hurt. I pray for a reprieve from the darkness.

Time, they say, is the cure. Time and again I have waited. Time and again, I have trusted a hope for naught. Time and again, time betrays me.

Where is my gratitude? Where is the joy I once knew? Where is my hope? I long for them so.