05 May 2022

Grief

By Bud Koenemund

Grief will never refuse a chance to sneak
Up on me – quickening darkness; breeding
Sorrow; tearing apart defenses weak;
Leaving sanity broken and bleeding.
It taints the verses of a thousand songs;
Barely remembered poems can spark life;
Trapping my mind amidst numberless wrong
Turns – where memory waits with whetted knife.
This monster aims not to kill, but open
Wounds thought healed by time; renewing my pain.
Misery, faded – almost forgotten –
Returns, overwhelming what peace I’ve gained.
   Someday, one hopes, suffering may convert;
   For now, there are no days it doesn’t hurt.


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