GRIEF Poem: sunspot, by Miasma Park

I can’t see the sun
I think I miss you too much
I think I stared for too long
as you eclipsed above me
glittering, to make me see
you’ve sprouted fruit like a peach tree
to hand one out to me
to branch out into space
become the solar system’s devotee
to imprison me
in the grief of losing
what I wouldn’t have lost
if I hadn’t been refusing
and my voice is beat
stinging from solar heat
I can’t sing a song of deceit
to convince you I’m incomplete
The moon is so blessed
but it shares no blessings with me
You only travel down to earth
to weep into the hearth
burning the pictures of you
when the sun was still in view

Author: poetryfest

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