Grief
It's hard to make room
for what is
no longer there.
Empty closets, empty chairs
remain filled
with memories,
both painful and comforting.
There are moments
when the air
becomes so heavy
that it fills
every waking space,
and spreads the ash
of our grief
like a blanket covering us
as we try to sleep.
Then one morning
we awake to find
what was lost still remains
as tomorrow's dust
flares into breath.
-- Henry Langhorne
This poem, the second of three chosen for the eMos of Easter weekend 2011, is taken from Henry Langhorne's 2009 collection In the Country of Rain: Selected and New Poems. Yesterday's selection, "Mechanical Man," is taken from his 2005 volume The Clarity of Last Things. His six books of poetry are available at www.amazon.com.
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