In Grief

In a blink of an eye, she

who carried me through childhood,

had faded into dust. 

And now, as I waved goodbye to my teenage years,

a motherless existence loomed ahead. 

And just like that,

I came to fear the silence. 

A cold, dark mass of 

vast open space, barren land starved 

of words and expression.

I spent every day chasing the noise, 

wherever I could find it,

pocketing the futile conversations of strangers

like priceless treasures, to draw on 

during the long, lonely nights. 

My mind, a place of refuge

from the harsh and bitter world,

found itself invaded by grief’s tireless emotions, 

ferociously attacking the equilibrium,

like soldiers at battle. 

But outside its four walls,

my pain was invisible, unable

to penetrate the mask I wore 

to shield me from the helpless eyes

and pitying glances. 

It wasn’t until I stopped running 

from the silence,

that I saw for what it really was, 

the only place that accepted me for who I had become

and everything I was going to be.