Bequeathed of Grief

How dare this breeze, come call on me, for I am alone now, with my grief. Has it come to visit me, unannounced? I should have prepared tea for thee, and combed my hair, but you have come to tousle my curls, fashionably wind-blown, by your presence.  Do you not see, I am quite pensive here, pining for a friend, a lost love and years of my youth, before you came to touch the aging, etched around my eyes?
  Your presence comforts me, for the stillness is so debilitating, as if the hand has stuck again, on a clock, at a juncture at which I never wished to witness.
 Must I be reminded of the ticking moment, when all had expired, must this expiration continue counting minutes, asking me,” how much can your soul bear of this void, until it breaks you?”
 I’m weak. I broke at the first tick. Does this nakedness amuse you? My invisible friend, breeze of my grief, stay with me as I unwind, I want no other visitors. If am still alive, as the heart beat of clocks, then I want to feel every bone shatter, every muscle writhing in the knowledge that what was, is no more.
 My friend is clothed in Earth. She sleeps without the pain, she has bequeathed to me. My only happiness to inherit this albatross, if she is smiling now in the winds.


3 thoughts on “Bequeathed of Grief

  1. Reblogged this on and commented:
    Sea Said is a very goo poet. I can relate to her poetry and she has her own style. I wish I were able to write poetry because I like it.

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