Tick tick tick ... TOCK
That’s all the time I get to grieve
That’s the moment allotted for me to feel
The clock strikes announcing the extinction of empathy and the depletion of patience
Don’t even think to call on comfort because it’s hiding away somewhere with strength
“Time heals all wounds”
“Give it time and it will be better”
“These things take time”
“All things; some things; with time”
I’m sorry, but my pain doesn’t walk the cadence drummed by the calloused hands of the clock
My grief doesn’t expire and can’t be thrown away by the offered opportunities to be happy
The years of suffering and layers of hurt are not overturned by my self-imposed timer
And eternity’s existence only complicates the question of my faith
Hearing the rumblings of my babbling emotions there is no attempt at comfort
Well wishes minced by cordiality’s lies are offered as a counterfeit
Too much time has passed for the genuineness of response to be consistent
I find myself begging for the crumbs of interactive and intentional love
My emotions starve and my heart grows thirsty for the community I cannot find
Who else would want to listen that has already heard my story?
Who else still cares as much as I do when pain suffocates me from within?
In this time of crisis, we struggle in the limitation of comfort available to us as we live in our grief. This poem was written some time ago, but I believe it to be applicable today. The bodies of loved ones cannot be put to rest, and the physical comfort of family cannot be felt beyond those in our household. The media repeats our stories; washing out the personalization of our suffering. I pray by reading this poem you find company in your time of grief. The complexity of our mourning is bigger than the world's compartmentalization and we are in search of relief. I encourage you to take your time; walk through your grief and process your pain. The clock has stopped ticking and it's your time now.
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