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