Sonnet #17: Grieving

Falling through space, and powerless,
I cry to him—
but I am lying on my bed,
alone, heart pounding,
as the words he said before he left
reverberate kaleidoscopically,
engulfing me,
a riot of emotions like explosions—
red and blinding white.
The chaos in my head
is threatening to drown me
unless I can force myself, in agony,
to the shore: storm-ravaged, desolate,
but calm....
The gloom descends,
the howling voices now no more than echoes;
fiery shadows fill the room
and swirl like mist around me.
Close the door.
Do not disturb the silence of this tomb.

December 12, 1989

"But this isn't a sonnet!" Yeah, it is. See the alternate version.

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