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"911" I have seen the Sword of Anguish, as it seared its blinding wrath across the face of millions. I have tasted the salt of their tears, released in painful droplets of anger and fear. I have watched the father, stooped and broken, as he speaks of the deeds of his heroic son. I have ached for the void that engulfs the husband, as he listens to the plaintive sobs of the soulmate who knows she is lost. I have peered out through the wide eyed innocence of a child, hopeless, confused, afraid, then gone. I have felt the fatigue of the broad-shouldered saviors who toil in disbelief, while numbing themselves against their pain. I tell myself: "It is too, much; that the price of freedom is too, costly to pay." I ask the question: "Why?" in the morning when I face the day, upon my return home when your presence is missed, in the middle of the night when I wake reaching, reaching, reaching for you. Grief is physical to me now, a gnawing, volcanic mass that rises up from the pit of my stomach and hurls itself up and out of me in so many screaming voices. "Time will heal," I tell myself, smoothing over the scars until they are merely a distant reminder of what you meant to my life. But, I will remember, always, in small agonizing sobs that are hidden in that private part of me. And, you will be with me, again, in part, in whole, inside of me, in spite of me, forcing to the surface the very Might of me... Written 09-12-11 Bj pearce |
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