(going to coda meetings,
learning to breathe)
sometimes,
the sadness that isn't mine
is.
i belong to it
and it becomes my family
for a night
this is the wake
that i never held
all my life.
now it is for me.
I cannot hold all the
sadness in my arms
or walk through it
because it is a wide and
deep lake
good for drowning,
a strong and dark forest
where children are
frightened and lost
a slow and silent night
that cannot find the dawn.
i have to sit beside it,
grieve
and know
that this is me
that the sadness is my own
and that i can breathe
beneath it.
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