“On the outskirts of every agony sits
some observant fellow who points.” Virginia Woolf
Grief is not a thing to
climb over.
It’s a heart crawling
through shadows searching for sunlight.
It is a harsh assumption
sorrow
has a generic course or allotted
days to wane.
When one breaks in a
thousand pieces
there’s a sea of horizons
the spirit has to sail.
©Susie Clevenger 2019
Landay poem...Couplet- 9 syllables first line, 13 syllables second line.
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Vast and untimly image, luv it
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