A Sorrowful Reunion
A sliver of moon peeks timidly through hungry clouds.
Damp grass caresses the soles of bare feet and coarse winds rouse already tousled hair.
She creeps through the night with a silent desperation.
Her only companion a grotesque pool of black.
Unsteady breaths escape from between obscenely dry lips and flee as newly released souls, dispersing into the sky.
A cold February night, the air bites at vulnerable skin wrapped only in scanty cloth.
It was nothing but an afterthought in the wake of an all consuming incoherency.
Grass gives way to whispering leaves who trade stories beneath her feet.
Mounds rise up in the distance, a collective of half circle silhouettes in the dark.
Seven, eight, nine-she counts down the row until her destination is reached.
Shaky knees find purchase against damp earth.
An unsteady hand grazes cool stone and a finger traces painfully familiar lettering.
It divulges five words: Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Friend.
Imprisoned emotions bleed through their chains, no longer able to be detained by sheer will.
Tonight marks a morbid anniversary.
It claws at scars that have yet to heal, kicks up memories that rise like muck from the bottom of a pond.
She weeps, wishing for precious wine and finding only pitifully disappointing water.
The world is turned sideways and musty earth invades sensitive nostrils.
Solid ground replaces a longed for embrace.
Two fruits are born from the same tree and yet one has withered before ripening, leaving the other to rot alone on the branch.
Time stands still in this moment.
Eventually, swollen eyes can no longer be kept open and the inner ruckus fades, quiets, stops.
Together they rest, a macabre slumber party where the guests don’t dream, don’t stir, won’t ever awaken from their subterranean beds of wood and dirt, all but one.
Damp grass caresses the soles of bare feet and coarse winds rouse already tousled hair.
She creeps through the night with a silent desperation.
Her only companion a grotesque pool of black.
Unsteady breaths escape from between obscenely dry lips and flee as newly released souls, dispersing into the sky.
A cold February night, the air bites at vulnerable skin wrapped only in scanty cloth.
It was nothing but an afterthought in the wake of an all consuming incoherency.
Grass gives way to whispering leaves who trade stories beneath her feet.
Mounds rise up in the distance, a collective of half circle silhouettes in the dark.
Seven, eight, nine-she counts down the row until her destination is reached.
Shaky knees find purchase against damp earth.
An unsteady hand grazes cool stone and a finger traces painfully familiar lettering.
It divulges five words: Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Friend.
Imprisoned emotions bleed through their chains, no longer able to be detained by sheer will.
Tonight marks a morbid anniversary.
It claws at scars that have yet to heal, kicks up memories that rise like muck from the bottom of a pond.
She weeps, wishing for precious wine and finding only pitifully disappointing water.
The world is turned sideways and musty earth invades sensitive nostrils.
Solid ground replaces a longed for embrace.
Two fruits are born from the same tree and yet one has withered before ripening, leaving the other to rot alone on the branch.
Time stands still in this moment.
Eventually, swollen eyes can no longer be kept open and the inner ruckus fades, quiets, stops.
Together they rest, a macabre slumber party where the guests don’t dream, don’t stir, won’t ever awaken from their subterranean beds of wood and dirt, all but one.