Inherited Sorrow

This sorrow is my birthright.

Some mornings the world
leans too close-
the sun burns too cleanly
at the edges,

every thought arrives
already on fire.

so even shadows forget
how to be dark,

and my mind begins to outrun
the pace of the room.

My mouth keeps making
treaties
my body cannot keep.

My lips crack
like dry promises.

I cannot lift
the glass of water.

So the room grows
careful around me,
and waits for
my sleeping flowers
to open.

No miracles occur-
only the next breath.

Reviews

[Michael Sun Bear]

The opening line is a killer. I don’t believe I have read you before, I hunger for the backstory. I will seek out more of your work. You have left space here for the reader’s own history, own experiences, to fill in the meaning. To me it feels like sitting bedside of a terminal loved one. I was, I am, quite moved by this piece of writing. Well done.

[redd Brick Keshner]

Living with this kind of sorrow isn’t about overcoming it in a grand way; it’s more about enduring it, episode by episode, with no guarantee of relief, only continuation. 🕊️🙏