Ten Years

Come Enjoy this

Raw Earth Ink

Ten years.
Damn.
It doesn’t feel like ten years.
My body remembers.
Remembers like it was a few months ago.

My chest remembers.
The ache.
The brokenness.
The questions.
The tears… oh god, the tears.

Somehow it was my fault, I’m sure of it.
I’ll never forgive myself.
I don’t expect anyone else to either.

Longing became joy became fear became… emptiness.

Ten years.
Ten years ago, I learned love.
Ten years ago, love left me.
Ten years ago, I became someone new.

It sneaks up on you.
The grief.
The memories.
It sneaks up and pounces and shakes you between its teeth.

I get back up, bruised and shredded.
I’m a better person now, I mutter. I’ve grown.
Yes, I get back up and stumble.

Maybe today I’m on my knees.
But I get back up and keep walking.


tara caribou | ©2021

Okay… this is the last grief…

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