The Anvil
I.
Loss is like
an anvil
sitting silent on my chest.
The only noise comes
when I try
to breathe.
The creaking of my lungs
fighting to expand in this
weighted world
sounds like the rattling
of chains softened
by padded walls.
Words pad the cell:
“She lived a good life.”
“It was her time.”
“She was ready.”
AND IF I COULD ONLY STAND
I’D RIP THAT PADDING OFF THE WALLS
AND DASH MYSELF AGAINST THE COLD AND SOLID REALITY
THAT DEATH IS ALWAYS AN UNINVITED AND GREEDY HAND
AT THE TABLE AND THERE IS NO EXCUSING HIM.
I have tried to move
the anvil
by ignoring it.
Pretending that I believe
padded words
are enough to quench
embers burning
a hole in my chest
where my heart used to be.
But
surprise, surprise!
It didn’t work.
After sitting in the numbed silence
for 100 more years I took another
rattling breath—my lungs like a bellows
on the embers of a heart gone
almost cold as I whispered—
“I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
And the anger lifts the anvil—
throws it broken to the ground.
And I do as I said I would;
tearing padding, dashing
every part of me against the cold
hard stone until
either my bones
or the wall
must break.
II.
Blind and wounded
is this how we come?
Crashing through that solid
wall of reality
my bones turned to powder
my eyes gritty
my nostrils full of dust
& funeral ashes.
Lying under a bright
& open sky—
the beauty sharp
like grief—
at first felt worse
than the anvil
that sat on my chest
1000 years—a weight
where my heart
used to be.
And now this!?
As I crashed through the walls
to the truth that death
was always just a door—
out of the tower
out of the nightmare
out of the Shadowlands
to Here—
where air is breathed
just for
laughing.
(This poem is an excerpt from my poetry chapbook As the Sparrow Flies, a collection of poems about the various forms of grief that come with love.)
Header photo by Yang Shuo on Unsplash
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Wonderful piece…
I’m so glad this resonated with you.
The ache in your poetry is so honest and beautiful. Thank you for giving voice to unspeakable things.
Thank you so much for your kind comment Deborah. It means to much that my poetry gives words to these often untold and hard to talk about realities that we all experience. Thank you for taking the time to comment, it truly is such an encouragement to me. 🙂
Yes, this describes it so well. I’ve read it 3 times. It feels like you are sitting with me in my grief, what a beautiful gift.
I’m so glad this resonated Sheri. That is my heart behind sharing this, and it’s such a blessing to see it coming through. Thank you for your kind words once again!