The Waiting Grief
There is a grief that never quiets,
not with time, not with tears.
It sits like stone within the heart,
waiting patiently for years.
A life left empty, words unspoken,
truths that hide behind the dark.
I carry memories, frayed and broken,
and bear this hollow, aching mark.
They call it “moving on”—but I remain
rooted in moments left unclear.
Though I’ve forgiven, though I’ve grown,
the echo of injustice lingers here.
I wait for answers, watch and listen,
as shadows shift, as truths arise.
For what goes around returns again,
and all that’s hidden meets the light.
There’s no revenge in this quiet strength,
no joy in watching others fall.
Only a hope that peace will come,
and lay its hands upon us all.
0 POINTS OF VIEW:
Post a Comment