Stages of Grief

hanging on the edge

of what was

and what lies ahead

time unravels in my aching hands

like slippery strands of twisted rope

reminding me of how shaky my grip

has become

i have fought long


to hold onto illusions

that nothing needs to change

that i have not changed

white knuckled

i have clung to control

like religion

whispering novenas in the sleepless hours

trying to convince myself

that i will conquer this demon

like all the others i have kept at bay

with flaming sword

righteous rage

stubborn will

ignoring trembling muscles

screaming joints

cold sweat running down my back

fatigue eating at me

an endlessly ravenous lion

the pain that burns







my body

my soul

i am forced to acknowledge

that this battle is bleeding me dry

and that this once

perhaps i must embrace



© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved




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