I Arrive Clothed in Grief
The Whirligig #394 Prompt words in red. image: public domain I arrive . I arrive wearing scraps . Pieces of my patchwork life crudely stitched from scraps of grief . Bare , but for these scraps , these griefs . I arrive . I arrive wearing patchwork, my broken heart stitched upon my sleeve. Ragged cloth. Tattered soul. Grief clothes me. I arrive . I arrive stick thin, grief-stricken, invisible, longing to join these strange creatures I see smiling, laughing, blind to my grief . “See! I arrive ! Drink in my sorrow, taste my patchwork heart. Hear! My name is Grief , and shall be forever more.” I am not courageous . They lie in telling me so. They know not grief as I do. Grief burns deep. Deep and cold. So very, very cold. And, so very, very deep. ©2022 Lisa Smith Nelson. All Rights Reserved