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.

[Pryde Foltz]

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.

It gets like this doesn't it. You feel overwhelmed with negativity and you are aware enough to know you want it lifted. Great write, Icyblue.

[icelandicblue]

It is like this for me now. I grieve for the dead and I grieve for the living. I live in limbo and it's hard to feel anything but grief right now. Thanks Pryde

[Pryde Foltz]

If you can take a walk through the woods or by some water.

[icelandicblue]

Nature is a healer, you are right. Walking the dog in the brisk air does give me a respite. I am dreading the holidays and that seems to hang over me like the sword of Damocles. It's just complicated but looking for simplicity and beauty in nature should be part of the healing process. Thank you.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

The name "Apache tear" comes from a legend of the Apache tribe: about 75 Apaches and the US Cavalry fought on a mountain overlooking what is now Superior, Arizona in the 1870s. Facing defeat, the outnumbered Apache warriors rode their horses off the mountain to their deaths rather than be killed. The wives and families of the warriors cried when they heard of the tragedy; their tears turned into stone upon hitting the ground.

I feel the weight of your sorrow, and I know at times it must seem like that mountain before you. Let your tears sink into that stone and away from your heart that you might be lifted again.

[icelandicblue]

Thank you so much for understanding. I truly appreciate your review.

[icelandicblue]

I also appreciate you offering the history behind the Apache Tears, it's an important story to know.

[Rachelle]

Thanks! Got it now!

[Lydia Shutter]

Monumentally moving words, Blue.

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

It seems grief rears its head whenever and where ever it chooses, but more intensely at night. The celestial beauty of the night sky is a sharp contrast to the dark emotions expressed. Heartfelt....and written with the ink of tears. Gorgeous. Lydi**

[icelandicblue]

Thank you Lydi*

Grief's tendrils have a boa grip and even though it releases the pressure here and there it never really leaves. Thank you for such an empathetic review.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

fierce grief felt with this piece.

[icelandicblue]

Thank you jacob,

My grief is most fierce and raw as is my fear. None of it can be readily dispelled. Thank you again for commenting. I am hoping at some point my poetry will turn a corner if I can just transfer this suffering to the grieving stone.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

right now, the grief must come out...writing is a purge...just keep doing what you need to do.