Grief (Sonnet)
"His death left a void," the headline read. All deaths leave a void, absence of space like a black hole of nothingness, dead silence and of what once was, no trace remains, just remnants of memories of somethings said, done, activities and glimpses into eternity, gone, bringing us to a new place where sadness overwhelms, enormity, nothing, feels like more than we can bear, a growing gnawing tearing at your gut until you can't take any more emptiness. The contrast with living is stark, startles, and the only way you can still be close to the feeling is pain, it's the closest you can say you are loved; it's the evidence you dared to love; it's the pain, nakedly bared. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2019