Poetry | Loss | Emergence

Closure

Isn’t always possible . . .

Save the homily, put away the cup, close the old book and turn away. When the hurt that is rushing, through our lives like a train — there is nothing to stop it — not a word or refrain.

When the dreams we are dreaming are peopled with sons, that are no longer with us, then the pain’s just begun

We can tell all our loved ones that we’re doing just fine — that the ache that just started begins to subside — but we’re lying, and they know it, been through it themselves, what’s this word they call closure — but a ticket to hell.

But pain isn’t endless, it softens with age At times it can comfort — lets us forget the old rage. It’s shallow, not deep, it rubs and abrades, and in the end though, it sutures the same wound that it made

Closure is wishing that time got it wrong that the moment that shattered didn’t really belong — just delivered in passing to the wrong addressee –

But in fact, all that mattered is we never forget to live and to love and to never regret. That the lives that will touch us, then leave us alone make us better, than ever we could, by being alone

I never really liked the term, closure. It tried too hard to create a finite ending to something that was most likely going to go on indefinitely in some form or another. Grief or loss tends to hit hard then taper off through the years. And loss comes in many forms — not only dealing with a person but often an idea or ideal no longer possible due to age or circumstance. Thus, my take on it above.

Dr Mehmet Yildiz J.D. Harms Harley King James Knight Tree Langdon Karen Madej The Secret Aspirant janny’s heart Michele Thill Claire Kelly Jenine Bsharah Baines Liam Ireland Stuart Englander Agnes Laurens Melissa Coffey