The Grieving Stone

Obsidian is a glassy and sharp volcanic rock also called Apache Tears

I sit in a room bereft of light
in a darkness befit for mushrooms.
There is comfort a certain
silence born of blindness,

a time to think and wallow
when church bells are silent
and the clock wrings it hands,
for grief knows no schedule.

Devoid of light my memories
flash in more vivid detail
against a midnight screen
of loss and emptiness.

The black curtain I've wrapped
around myself swaddles me
tight, cutting off my breath
making me lightheaded.

Moonlight eventually puddles through
narrow windows in two parallel lines
beckoning me to follow it outside
where the stars await my homecoming,

so I follow, squinting at their faraway sparkle,
staid pinpricks of hope that hang in the sky
as crisp air gently slaps me awake.
I discover I still find comfort in the pitch of night.

I am not yet ready for life's brightness.
Mired in these dispiriting days of November
that fill my soul with a numbing elixir
paralyzing me to the possibilities that await

beyond the obsidian of Apache Tears
that I clutch in my hand until blood runs free
as I try to dispel my disharmonious energy
into the sharp soul of the grieving stone.

Reviews

[The Hampstead Poet]

This poem is full of emotion, and the words you chose are beautiful. I especially love the term "Apache Tear", as it itself entails a whole story of suffering along with the emotion created by your poem. Solitude is a blessing and a curse. It inspires, and it gives us time with our thoughts, time to grieve. I understand how painful being alone with one's thoughts is when one is grieving. The pain conjured by grief is enough to draw the figurative blood of emotions and memories, and make it run free. The numbness is pain itself. Thank you, for capturing it so beautifully. An awe-inspiring poem!

[icelandicblue]

Thank you so very much The Hampstead poet. I apologize for the very late response. I hadn't read this in a while but when I did today I could feel those feeling bubble to the surface...grief is like that.

[Lyn Anderson]

For me, this speaks of a person scared to let go of grief and be happy again -- a deep loss, either a tragic death or a loss of family, home, security, can do this to us. Keep us static, and holding on to that stone. A powerful write.

[icelandicblue]

Grief lies in your bones and your blood...you never know when the symptoms will surface. This was written a few months after my father died and you are right it took me a long time to throw off the mantle of grief and move on. Yet, there are days where I feel the loss anew again. Thanks for the read and the comment.

[TL Boehm]

Moonlight eventually puddles through
narrow windows in two parallel lines
beckoning me to follow it outside
where the stars await my homecoming,

so I follow, squinting at their faraway sparkle,
staid pinpricks of hope that hang in the sky

oh LORD that is beautiful - I know its pitch ink you penned with but I see the beauty in the words. The eloquence.

[icelandicblue]

You spoil me. Thank you.

[Rocans]

Wow, this is superbly penned. I can definitely identify with the persona's gloom. I'm actually writing a story where the obsidian stone features prominently, and is eerily close in concept to your symbolic transference of sadness to the stone so I have to laud its use here. Great stuff!

[icelandicblue]

Thank you so much and good luck with your story. I am quite fond of obsidian.

[rhythm&blues]

Wish I could write a review that could convey how wholly emotive this is, an outstanding read, you have such way with words, I am envious of your talent.

[icelandicblue]

I thank you but we all have our own styles and I think yours is fabulous. Thanks so much, it does mean a lot. We poets doubt ourselves a lot. A note like that truly makes a difference.

[icelandicblue]

A beautiful dark imagery here, beautifully done. I see and feel the sadness, sometimes you just want to crawl away from everything and everyone around you ... This place means a lot to you (or the person you're talking about). It's just like that I have my "Second World"

There is a personality in this piece, and a headstone, which are connected.
Touching, moving, and recognizable for me, and many.

- Elisa

[icelandicblue]

I still write about my father. I am still working through my grief through my writing. Thank you for your sensitive response. You are an angel.

Yes, I sensed that, but I'm always careful to say, what I think, especially in situations like these, I find you inspiring, and am proud of how you can embrace pain, hurt, and darker times. You're such a strong woman... even if you don't know it yourself yet ;) ((HUGS)) Eli x

[Ed Hart]

'once upon a midnight dreary/while i pondered...' tap, tap, tap

[icelandicblue]

Nevermore my friend, nevermore...thanks for reading.

[Baby Ricochet]

Beautifully touching. Great job Blue

[icelandicblue]

Thanks BR. I appreciate you dropping in.

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Having some Native American in my heritage, I am familiar with "Apache tears", and I found this write extremely emotional. You hit on something that really reached in and touched the heart, while still remaining true to the grace and flow of your own unique writing style.

I am not yet read for life's brightness
Mired in these dispiriting days of November -- these lines stood out to me...I felt them.

Well done, my friend...well done.

[icelandicblue]

Thanks Sarah,

I'm glad you found that the Apache tears worked in this. I appreciate your feedback and kind words.

[Blue Ivory]

Everybody needs that time to cut themselves off from civilization. Just to sit in the silence, with nothing but the music of their own breaths. Sometimes the world is just way too much to handle, and you just gotta sit by yourself; ignore your cell phone and social media. Too much of this silence can turn from solitude to self inflicted suffocating. Yet just opening the door, and walking head-on into reality can be too much to take for anyone. That fear keeps us in the darkness. I pray you find your way to taking baby steps back into the sunlight, and that whatever made you run scared into your panic room never returns.

[icelandicblue]

Thank you for such an empathetic response. It is my panic room and I never thought of it as such. I am working on it. I go to work but as for the rest I am a recluse, I don't like it but I can't leave it either. Thank you for understanding.

[Blue Ivory]

I can understand, cuz I'd put myself in the same place recently. It's hard. At first you take a step forward and run back inside. Eventually you come out and start telling people where you disappeared to. Some will understand, and some of the people you least expect will fail to. Some will think you're faking it. Sometimes you'll be out there for weeks and feel the need to rest in your panic room for a while again. Staying motivated for long periods is hard. But that's where I am right now. Trying to increase my duration of staying positive. You'll get there too. You just gotta keep faith :)