I was surprised when you produced such a clean set of daggars, even after I told you I was hurting……
but you didn’t care, even thinking it was funny, and yes your death blows were devastating……
but each one cracking, opening up a space for light, to seep through and slowly…..
I could see more clearly. Yes I died every day, but eventually I figured out how to pull my shape back together quickly……..
the fragments, the frozen pieces, and I began refusing your kingdom of abandonment and strangulation……
and I walked away, never running, because to be honest, I’m not scared of you anymore.
Note: I’m fine, and my wife and I are fine. We all go through tragedies of some type, dont we? These feelings are expressing pieces of what it feels like……to survive.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies