I can’t tell you how it will happen
the moment the light fades
and the darkness swallows you,
of the crushing weight of just trying to catch your breath
I can’t tell you of the days that follow
one bleeding into another, running on autopilot
the fog of just getting through them.
And the rain that appears, unannounced,
falling whether we want it or not.
Milestones are the hardest,
every Monday, every 7th, every holiday.
“Keep your mind busy, it’ll get better”
the lie you tell yourself because you can’t imagine
that this could be all that is left.
I can’t tell you when it changes;
when the boulder you carry
becomes lighter, less noticeable, or when
you can finally whisper the memories
and feel only their warmth, not overwhelming
regret for all that could have been.
I can’t tell you when the shadows will recede
or when the light will finally crack through the darkness
reflecting back the happiness you still ferry;
never actually gone, just lost for a while.
Time doesn’t heal all of our wounds
but it teaches us how to live with them.
We draw strength from all that we’ve been through
and all that that has brought us to this point.
Love comes in many forms,
and it is the love
that gets us through
that gets us past
and finally heals us.
© Ginny Brannan 2022
