GRIEF Poem: Grieving Expectations, by Deanna Marshall

Despite hunting
the balm of hymn or mantra,
I’ve yet to grasp the prayer
for the death of an idea.
There is no altar.
Nowhere to lay my flowers down
as tears fall from my mind’s eye
into the ocean of all I’d dreamed.

There is no sacred place for mourning
this picture of a life. Made fiction by
reality (or, my sorry choices).
Still, I ache for all I had imagined for myself.
The silver edge of possibility
worn down, made dull
by sand in my hourglass.

– Grieving Expectations

Author: poetryfest

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