Holes

I should be asleep, but I wanted to look something up in my journal, and ran across a poem I wrote last year. It was a quick write, but I like it enough that I want to share it. It's from an entry dated 11 February, 2013; Monday.

Holes
In the movies
grief has straight hair
with bangs over the eyes
And a dark dress
that's still flattering.

What about pajamas
with the covers over the head
and the knotty hair
over the hole
where the ache steady-thrums?

Days stack like potato chips--
Once you pop you can't stop!

This is faith:
The tired feet
go off the edge
on the floor
and out the door.

I have learned--
Light can heal these holes.



"Some days, just breathing is a testimony." -David Elliott