Good old friend Ms.Grief

It’s been a while since my good old friend Ms. Grief paid me a visit and she came knocking today. 

As always the eluding presence, the whisper of a doubt of whether she is real and here?! 

                with me, for me…!? 

The feather light footsteps of an enormous monstrosity. 

The angel of truth. 

The deliverance of a shadow. 

The revelation of a unique truth. 

The mountainous peak that shows you the whole panaroma of perspectives. 

Of the ugliness of gratitude. 

The diabolical nature of self preservation. 

Why them, why me, why not me, how, if only, could it would it should it, oh how unfair, oh atleast… 

                     that atleast and it’s cruelty! 

The shattered echoes of the idea of “resting in peace”! 

The tyranny and the relief of silence answering every inner doubt and turmoil. 

Oh sweet old friend Ms. Grief. 

What would I give to be through you… 

I have hardly gotten to the end of you for that which is 24 short years past and you bring me the next, with a fresh bouquet of funeral flowers in your dainty morbid hands! 

I only wish you are easier on those I love and that love me when you carry the message of which I am the subject! Ha ha ha! That is your ultimate satire. The subject of your messages are oft forgotten and replaced with the sufferings of self because of your subject’s imminent passing. 

Oh sweet old friend, wash my self with your fragrant perfume. The putridity of the decay of the bigness of i me and myself. And pour the immensity of this universe on the pointless point of me. While you inform me and torment me of the passing of this point of connection in my life, the string lays broken, healing  through the repetition of regrets like a chant of prayer… it heals the broken end into a scab I could always touch. Always there to remind me that you have visited me… and the distance of time from the message slowly inflating my sense of self - only to deflate it all with the prick of your tipless finger as it gouges another hole.

Oh sweet old friend Ms. Grief! Do I dare to wish it wasn’t you knocking on my door, it wasn’t for this particular subject, it wasn’t for…