In darkened room
I lie, willing blackness
to obliterate blackness.
A scream, unearthed
from dankness
shatters the silence,
echoes off heartless walls,
shock waves reverberate
relentless torment
seventeen years…
committed, no…
dedicated
ripped away
leaving me
nothing
I fall, spiral
reel out of control
breaking down
tomorrow,
the children will return
the house will fill again,
and I will pick up
these shards,
piece together
some semblance
of normalcy,
and begin
to rebuild
in the dark.
(Written for dVerse pub, where Lillian is hosting with a challenge to focus on time: “To everything there is a season…”)
One Woman's Quest 