September Storm

Three Years I held it in
Dark clouds growing bigger and bigger
Threatening to burst out of me
Like a hurricane in September


Three chromosomes where there should be two
Should be are the words we shouldn’t say
Instead our silence fills the empty spaces
until there’s no air left to breathe
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Gasping I unravel
Spitting words out I would take back
But the storm has come
And it is raining fire in our home


Everything left unsaid catches like gasoline
Creating supernova explosions that become
Invisible galaxies around us
An unnavigable universe better left unexplored


Everyone grieves in their own way
My grief is like a knife
I stab myself with over and over
Until there is no blood left to pour


Hollowed out of blood and storm
I am merely a shadow being as I turn now to you
Knife wielded uncertainly
As I contemplate where to stab first


I wonder if our grief will mingle
In the way that we have forgotten ourselves
Blood and ash and tears
Intertwined, a living being become one


Shall we take her then to the river of sorrow
And push her in until there is nothing left of her
Will there be anything left of us then
To hold on to in this darkness


Quickly I strike with unwarranted vengeance
Your careful countenance crumbles for just a moment
For one second we truly see one another
Lit up by the lightning of the storm you unleash


Ash rains down on what’s left of me
Covering me until I’m grey as a statue
Tears mix with ash cementing my face
Into a semblance of forced content


Now it is over and we can go back to pretending
That everything is just fine
As you rush off to your appointment
And I sit down to write a poem about it

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