Breathing Again
In the midst, of grief.
What is strength?
Where does it live?
The perception of being strong.
Because there are no current tears.
Doesn't mean I'm not dying inside.
It just means I don't know the words.
Maybe, my grief is so overwhelming.
I don't know what or how to feel.
Yet, in thoughts of self
Many people perceive that, as me being strong.
Because, they're looking for shoulders to lean on.
The drama queens that have to cry out loud.
Suck up the emotions from the room.
Nothing wrong with crying but not performative.
Grabbing, attention only.
I laugh a lot of times in grief.
Inappropriate, from the gut
Some think I'm callous.
Maybe even a little unhinged.
My process, my pain,
intentionally introspective.
Healing, I don't always know,
if it's working.
How do I know, it just a feeling.
Distrustful of my own thoughts.
Right or wrong, it's a lesson.
The road, bumpy, winding
Steeped hill, unexpected descending...
Then, the sun peeks out...
The tears flow, in moments of Silence.
Where the essence of my strength lies.
I let go and scream into the void...
Empty my chest of stress..
Breathing again in my peace.
Lyrically yours,
MydNite Renaissance ❤️🩹
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Breathing Again
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