10 January 2018

In this time of 

rebirth and reflection 

there are anecdotes amidst growth that 

remind us those memories cruelest to our 

minds are often cruelest to our bodies.

Loss, for example, 

doesn’t care if the thought of eating 

makes us sick this morning (or any morning, really) 

so sometimes we don’t and Loss keeps on 

living. And when we try to break away 

from the smallness it insists upon, 

to fill the void with something

more than cold space,

Loss cries, “it hurts” 

and we agree.

And Fear craves company.

It likes to replay its greatest hits 

on Tuesday nights between flannel sheets 

so we stay awake until we can drown the noise 

in multivitamins and caffeine for a few 

hours at sunrise. But Fear creeps back 

into our shoulders and tells us 

in no uncertain terms,

“I will not be forgotten.”

And we’re so surrounded

by vacuous chasms and 

mid-day exhaustion 

we start to become them,

and it’s hard to 

remember a time we 

were full and fully awake.

( m e g )