What do we call this sadness?
I am not one of the mourners.
- I have no candle to light
- No kaddish to recite
- No shiva to sit
The heart tears open in memory of your aliveness
Your bright yellow touched my fragile grey blue
Holding her gently, allowing her to find her way
When I was so young, terrified
What do we call this sadness?
Thank you, crying
Great point on this one about a far away person that had a pivotal impact on you. Is it holding her gently OR holding you gently?
I love your rioting responses to living
at this point in time the clock rewinds to a place where my tears for joan become images in your poem. thank you chaya…bernice